Blowback
by BellaDameNoir
Summary: NO LONGER A ONE-SHOT Blowback: the unintended adverse results of an action or situation. This takes place 7 months after the S3 Finale. BEWARE*WARNING*You may not like this one as it is completely different from other writers postings. I love OLITZ; they are the endgame but some things need to happen first; at least in my head. This story is told from Fitz's point of view.
1. Chapter 1

"_I don't know what you want me to say," my voice was strained, weary. It's been a long time since I heard myself sound this way. I kept my gaze downcast so that she wouldn't see the pain in my eyes. Of course, it hurt to see her show up to the WHCD with Jake, her fiancé. No matter how much I tried to prepare myself for that moment, the acute sharpness of the heartbreak still resonated. I was a seasoned politician though, so I smiled, shook their hands and welcomed them as I politely as I welcomed many other guests. _

_I reminded myself that she returned because her father was dying. That's it. That's all. _

_I steered clear of them all evening. I weathered nervous looks from Cyrus, Mellie, Andrew and even Karen, my date for the evening. I knew for the most part they were all afraid of what her appearance would do to me; whether the six months of therapy healing techniques would suddenly be undone and I would revert back to the destructive version of myself. I was determined to make them, especially Karen, proud of me. I could do this. I could do this._

_And then she asked for a moment alone. Why did she have to do that? Why couldn't she have just left with her soon-to-be husband and allowed me to go back to my prison? It would have been better for everyone, wouldn't it? _

_After exchanging superficial civilities that really didn't address how either of us were feeling, we embarked on several minutes of coded silence. I stood with a wide gulf between us waiting for her to respond. _

"_I…I…."_

_As usual she had difficulty expressing herself to me. I always found that odd. I was the person she claimed to be in love with but she could never communicate her feelings to me. Why could she tell everyone else what she was feeling but never tell me? I forced myself to dismiss the thought and concentrate on the present. In the past I would try to infer what she meant to say; I would look into her eyes and somehow I would know but apparently the truth and what I convinced my mind to believe were two entirely different things. _

_It appeared she changed her mind on what she originally wanted to say. "You're divorced," she now said in a low voice but I could still hear the shock of the revelation. It was understandable; I had been threatening, promising to divorce Mellie for five years and let everyone, including her, talk me out of it. _

"_Yes, one month now." It seemed as though she recently found out which didn't make sense as it had been the main headline in every newspaper, magazine, telecast and social media site for months. Maybe she had purposely kept herself secluded from any news related to me. _

_I could have told her that Mellie was happy with Andrew and they had a plan to announce their relationship after a respectable period of time. But then I knew she would recognize it as the plan she created for us so long ago. I didn't have the energy to entertain all those memories. What would be the point of it anyway?_

_I took a seat on the garden bench and waited patiently as more silence ensued. I refrained from looking her directly in the eye, thinking perhaps it would put less pressure on her. We needed to get this conversation done and over with._

_She didn't sit next to me and somehow I was relieved. Did I change that much? How could I not want to be as close to her as possible? It was a tricky thing to want something so bad but force your mind to reflect on the reality of permanent consequences over temporary benefits. I didn't want to fall backward again. I had worked hard to come out of my hole of misery. I wanted to move forward. I needed to move forward for my own sanity._

_I could tell she was struggling to find her words but eventually they poured out. "I want to know why?...Why aren't you angry at me? Why have you accepted this…..this life!...Why didn't you come looking for me?" Her tone was indignant but desperate. I knew it embarrassed her to say so much. She rarely let me see the vulnerable side to her; she kept it well hidden behind. She always wanted to be so strong, confident and bold. I wish she would have believed me when I told her I adored all parts of who she was; every flaw and every achievement. But she never did._

_I couldn't contain my look of disbelief. She wanted me to be angry. She wanted me to chase after her. She wanted me to drag her back here. What was this, a twisted game she played to test my love for her? _

_I felt a headache coming on. I was frustrated. I thought I had done the right thing. I heard her when she told me she didn't need protecting; she didn't need a hero. I heard everything and I understood it. I understood that my place in her life never required such grandiose gestures of salvation and any attempt to display them would be rejected by her anyway. She wanted to save herself. And I did not interfere with that. _

_Now I was being chastised for not coming to her rescue. But how do you rescue someone from a life they've chosen to secure their happiness only to forcefully bring them back to a life of heartache? I shook my head as doubt over my own actions or lack thereof started to take over. Would things have been different had I looked for her, forced her to come back? I seemed to never do what she wanted me to do and she was never willing to tell me exactly what she wanted. So much confusion and misdirection; a lack of communication, expended energy with nothing accomplished. _

_I finally stood up and looked at her. Did she always look this small and fragile or was it my skewed perception? She should be happy now; she could have a life and no longer have to hide a relationship in the shadows under the looming threat of exposure. Why wasn't she happy? Even from the wide berth of distance between us I could see her eyes brimming with tears ready to fall at any moment. She thought me indifferent; that I no longer loved her; that I no longer cared. She was so wrong; my love was never that shallow. I loved her now as much as ever; I loved her enough to let her go. _

_I took a deep breath, wanting to choose my words carefully. "Li….Olivia," I started and then cleared my throat. She was no longer my "Livvy"; I didn't think I had the right to call her that anymore. Her eyes widened at my correction, she recognized my refusal to use the endearment._

_I didn't address it. I just continued speaking, "Everything you said….that was me when you first left, seven months ago. I was angry and I didn't want to accept it. I was…." I stopped short because I didn't want to discuss who I was back then. She didn't need to know that. "But what have you been begging me to do for years?" _

_She looked away as if she didn't want to face the answer. _

"_You asked me over and over to let you go. And I did. I let you go. I wanted you to be free of all this...of me and all the burdens that came with my life. I was always your 'damsel in distress' needing, waiting on you to save me, making you sacrifice pieces of yourself to keep me here. I couldn't do that to you anymore. I wanted you to be happy….You don't realize how hard it was for me to see that dead look in your eyes, knowing I was the cause. To hear you speak of unfulfilled promises, broken dreams and sleepless nights, knowing it was all because of me. It was selfish to keep you tied to me. I felt like I was destroying you…..I had to…." My own voice was breaking from the emotions of admitting I failed her in this relationship. _

_I was determined to get it all said. "I had to let you go. I didn't treat you the way you deserved. I failed you….I loved you and I had to let you go."_

_Tears were burning my eyes; I could barely see. This was our goodbye. It had been delayed for seven months but it was happening now. It was a good time for it; I wouldn't have accepted it before. I would've fought her on it; I would've made her feel guilty for leaving me and she would've caved to please me. We had done that dance before; it was a horrible cyclical process that in the end still left us saddened and no closer to reaching what had been our goal._

_I gave her a fleeting smile, the one that told her everything was going to be alright. _

_I knew there was more she wanted to say but I also knew she wouldn't say it; that was her way. _

_I turned and started to walk away. I didn't get a few steps before I heard Jake's voice behind me saying, "Olivia, there you are."_

_I didn't turn around. The Secret Service fell in line with my step and we continued to walk to the car. _

_I knew Jake heard our entire conversation and was likely waiting in the wings for the opportune moment to show himself. Jake was still an asshole but I couldn't blame him for loving her and giving her everything I couldn't. _

_It had already been arranged for Karen and Teddy to spend the weekend with Mellie so I sat in the back of the car alone; reprimanded by my thoughts. I was being taken back into that large foreboding house; back into the life I shaped for myself; back into my own world. The sacrifices people made to put me here, keep me here were great; too high to pay. The least I could do was set them free and serve out my sentence alone. It was penance for the greatness I sought to achieve. _

**_(A/N: I applaud any of you who endured this one-shot. It kept rolling around in my head and I had to get it out. As I previously warned, I know most of you didn't like it and it was completely different from what others have written about what happened after the finale. But this is just my version. Anyway, now I can get back to my updates, edits and reviews. Thanks for entertaining my rambling thoughts again.)_**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"I'm going to ask Olivia to help me prepare for the campaign."

I didn't have a response to that statement and I didn't think she was really requesting my input so I remained silent.

Mellie used the silence to her advantage. "I figure I will need a year to get prepared to run...I want to make myself visible...slowly, I think...you know there's a pace to these things. But still I need to stay relevant and people need to see me apart from you...apart from being First Lady; taking a stand on particular issues that are important to me. It's the first step for me, being on the forefront...gaining my own political capital."

To be honest I only heard every third word of what she said. Overtime, I had learned to wait until the end; allow her to ramble on uninterrupted and wait until a question was asked of me. Then I would respond. It was the easiest way to get through a conversation. So I waited for the question, but it never came.

"Fitz?" She called out into the receiver as if I had suddenly become hard of hearing.

"I'm here and I heard you."

My lack of response was irritating her. I could practically see her rolling her eyes through the phone.

"And?"

"And what?"

She sighed sharply. "And what do you think? What do you have to say about it?... I swear sometimes dealing with you is like pulling teeth."

I closed my eyes, attempting to conjure up patience and reminding myself that this woman is the mother of my children and not just some shrew harping on my phone.

"I...I thought you wanted to go with Leo."

"That was before Olivia returned. Leo lost the campaign for Sally. I don't want a loser handling me." She said it so matter-of-factly as if all the other horrible deeds that came with the campaign didn't even occur. Mellie had a tendency to create her own reality that didn't always line up with truth.

"Well...you need to be prepared for disappointment. Olivia may not be staying. She may be here only because of her father. She has a lot on her plate and I don't think handling your PR and political campaign can be a priority for her."

"Fitz, Olivia doesn't need you to fight her battles. She's a big girl. If she wants to say no to my offer than she can do it on her own. She doesn't need you coddling her. She has moved on and so should you." Her exasperated tone was coupled with the condescension that I absolutely hated. I could feel my temper rising. Only she had the ability to send me from 0 to 100 in a matter of seconds.

"Then why are you asking me about it? Why are we having this discussion?" I didn't bother hiding the annoyance I felt. More times than not, if felt like Mellie got pleasure in deliberately goading me into an argument.

"We are having this discussion because she will need your cooperation. You promised to support my campaign and it will take this entire year for me to get ready to run. We may have to even do a sit down interview at some point to discuss our marriage and the divorce; maybe even bring the kids in..."

"NO!" I had to interrupt her when she mentioned Karen and Teddy.

"What?" She chuckled as if saying 'no' to her was unimaginable.

"I said no! The kids are not involved and they will not be involved in your campaign. They will not be doing interviews, televised or not. I don't want it touching them at all...Are we clear?" She wasn't going to use the kids as pawns to evoke maternal empathy and support. There were already whispers questioning her decision to give me full custody of the children and likely she wanted to ensure her saintly image remained intact.

"Fine." She responded gruffly but all too quickly as if she was humoring me, wagering that eventually I would change my mind.

I quickly hung up the phone. It was rude but I didn't care.

XXXXXX

Today was not the day for back-to-back-to-back meetings. I had already popped about 6 Tylenol pills trying to relieve my throbbing headache but when that subsided, the lethargy set in. I was tired and I needed to sleep for hours and hours. Last night was horrible, Karen had another nightmare. I swear each time I hear her scream in the middle of the night it takes years off of my life. I nearly broke my neck trying to get to her and I stayed with her until she could fall back to sleep, unfortunately last night she never did. Early this morning, I had the nurse give her mild sedative just so she could calm her mind and rest.

My ultimate fear is that Gerry's death will continue to haunt us all for the rest of our lives. Teddy was so young that he would hopefully remain unscathed by the incident but Karen was different. It was clear that she couldn't handle it and needed help. She had seen a therapist months ago and after a few appointments, she claimed she was fine and no longer needed to go. I encouraged her to continue but both she and Mellie no longer saw the need for it. Now, though, I was going to insist she go back. She couldn't go on this way.

I was operating on 2 hours of sleep which was definitely not sufficient considering how long-winded Cyrus could be. It took all of my concentration to focus on their words and then I heard a familiar chord; words, phrases, ideas and strategies synonymous with one person and one person only.

My look must have drastically changed because Cyrus stopped speaking abruptly. Abby, being new to the White House as Press Secretary, had no idea what was happening so she dutifully picked up where Cyrus left off and continued defending their argument.

"Abby….Abby…Abby…stop!" Cyrus demanded.

Abby stopped talking and glared at Cyrus.

I took a deep breath and pinched the ridge of my nose. It had been a month since the WHCD and still I was never going to escape this or her. "I didn't know Olivia Pope was now weighing in on matters of State."

Abby shifted nervously in her seat; her eyes frantically darting between me and Cyrus. "Sir?"

I sighed. "Abby you may not know this but I can tell when Olivia Pope is in a room, even when she is not in a room. I know her words; I know how she speaks; I know when she advises my staff and when they in turn regurgitate her words."

Abby was silenced as she sunk further into the couch. She didn't know what to say so she looked to Cyrus for a lifeline.

"Sir, despite the source, the information is sound and it should be given the proper consideration…Will you consider it?"

I could feel myself becoming irritated. Maybe it was my lack of sleep; the reminder of my deceased son or the fact that the one woman I wanted but could never have was constantly being thrown in my face. "That'll be all…I need to get ready for my next meeting." I stood up and walked to my desk. I needed to occupy my mind with something else.

"Sir?" Cyrus pressed.

"I heard you Cyrus and I said that would be all." My voice was louder and harsher than I intended but I just wanted a moment alone. As alone as I could be in this house with eyes and ears everywhere trained to constantly zero in on me.

"Of course," Cyrus conceded and I didn't look up at him again. When I heard the door closed, I assumed I was alone, but I was wrong.

"She's not doing well, by the way," Abby broached through the silence.

I just stared at her. I didn't want to know; I didn't want to care but I did. I would always care about her. Abby took my silence as permission to continue. She got up from the couch and sat in the chair in front of my desk. A soft expression appeared on her face that I had never seen; uncharacteristic of the woman I had come to know.

"I was angry when she left….I was even angrier when she came back. I wouldn't see her for a month. Finally, I broke down. I had dinner with her last night. And I can tell you for a certainty that she is not doing good. She's not the same woman that left here months ago. She's….she's a shadow of who she was. And she misses you…she misses you a lot…Look I'm not saying that she wasn't wrong for leaving the way she did and I'm not saying that you should forgive her….I'm just saying your should hear her out. That's it…that's all."

Abby stood and before leaving said, "Her father's funeral is in a couple of days. I know he doesn't deserve your consideration but maybe she does. She might need your support. I know she would appreciate it."

XXXXX

"Dad?"

"Yes sweetheart?"

"Thanks for bringing me…I just want to give my sympathies to Olivia. We don't have to stay long." Karen was perceptive beyond her years. She knew there was something between me and Olivia. She knew this would be uncomfortable for me and as she often did lately, tried to relieve my suffering in some way. This was not how she should be spending her childhood. Regrettably, life and circumstances and sub-standard parents were forcing her to grow up too quickly.

"It's okay Karen. It's the right thing to do," was all I could say. I wanted to say _'where was Olivia when my son was murdered?'_or _'how am I supposed to stand before the grave of the monster who murdered my son?'_ but none of that was for Karen's ears.

The car pulled to a stop and through the tinted windows I could already see the crowd of people at the grave site – family, friends, co-workers – all expressing remorse over the death of a 'great man'. I almost snorted in disbelief. This man ruined my entire life before and after I met Olivia and all I could feel was inner peace and joy at the fact that his toxic existence had left this earth.

As routine, we had to wait for the Secret Service to give us the all clear to exit the vehicle. When we finally exited, I held Karen's hand as we crossed the manicured lawn to join the other grievers.

I could feel the moment Olivia and Jake acknowledged my presence. Jake's arm drew possessively tighter around Olivia and even behind her dark glasses I could see her eyes widening in surprise.

Karen and I joined the line of people waiting to express their condolences to Olivia. When we reached them, I kept my gaze focused on Karen. I watched as she hugged Olivia and expressed her remorse over the death of her father. Karen gave Olivia a card and hugged her again.

"Mr. President," Jake said in greeting.

My face was expressionless as I nodded my head in return. "Captain Ballard." I overlooked the slight of him not saluting me as his Commander-in-Chief. Jake no longer matter to me; nothing about him entered my thoughts anymore.

"Olivia, I'm sorry for your loss," I said briefly and moved on before she could say anything in reply, although I doubt she would. I couldn't shake her hand. We could never touch again. I was afraid to feel her skin against mine. There was always a spark, an electric current that traveled between us when we touched and I didn't want to experience it. Whatever was there, now had to be extinguished permanently.

I ushered Karen to the back row of white chairs. I invited her to take a seat, while I stood flanked by Secret Servicemen. I could see cameramen keeping a safe distance but no doubt using their high-powered lenses to focus in on me. I was always a spectacle, whether publicly or in private.

I could see Cyrus, Abby and other WH workers coming to attend the services. And then Mellie with Andrew at a safe distance walking toward them as well. They were doing quite well keeping their affair a secret; it was commendable. I could only admire their discretion and candor.

From my vantage point, I saw everyone coming to speak to Olivia, who barely said a word in return. She gave weak smiles and 'thank-yous'. As beautiful as she was, she looked frail and weak. I could tell she wasn't eating properly, as if she ever did. She never had good eating habits, but this was different. The strength and power she radiated had been dimmed; darkening even more so since the WHCD. Maybe Abby was right; she wasn't the same woman after all but then again, none of us were.

The minister began to speak by the gravesite and several times Olivia turned her head in my direction. It seemed as if she was trying to confirm that I was still there. Each time she did, Jake stroked her arm. It was a typical guy move, meant to remind her that he was the one there by her side. His insecurity was telling and it gave me solace that maybe I wasn't that easily replaceable.

The minister spoke of salvation and redemption and forgiveness of sins. He recounted the brilliance of the man that lay before us. I heard his assurance that Rowan/Eli/Command or whatever the hell he called himself was now in heaven looking down on us. I wanted to laugh at the mockery. Faith and religion were always the fallback for the absolution of wicked men. If men like Rowan were in heaven then who was hell reserved for?

Much like everything else in this town, it was a farce, an act put on for the benefit of the masses. I wondered if, after my term was over and I left DC would I regain my ability to see the good in mankind without any trace of cynicism. I highly doubted it; I had been tainted beyond repair.

I was caught up in my thoughts and barely noticed that the services were ending. I remained where I stood, allowing Karen to say her good-byes to everyone.

"You're a good guy. You know that don't you?" Abby said as she walked upon me with a gleam in her eye, like she knew a secret about me that I hadn't yet discovered.

"Actually, I'm really not," I easily countered.

"Learn to take a compliment Mr. President; you won't hear many coming from me."

I found my first smile of the day. One of the things I appreciated about Abby was her sassy, no-nonsense way of censuring me. When she first came aboard, she was a little reserved, trying to find her way and fighting to build her reputation. But when the walls came down and she became comfortable with me and Cyrus, the real Abby, the ballsy one with no filter, emerged. And I liked this version much better.

"By the way, it's that dreaded time for the Hunting Party again. Care to go shooting with me this week? I need to practice in front of someone I'm not afraid to embarrass myself with."

She laughed. "Not a problem Mr. President. And I promise not to tweet about it this time." She was joking or at least I hoped she was.

Before I could say anything further, she walked away and rejoined her husband David in speaking with Olivia and Jake. Karen was busy talking with her mother and Andrew. I could feel Olivia's eyes watching me but willed myself not to look in her direction.

With a fake smile and kind demeanor, I entertained the conversations of several other people before I joined up with Cyrus and walked back to toward the cars.

"Dad!" I heard Karen call out to me from behind. I turned and waited for her to catch up.

She grabbed my hand and said, "Olivia said to tell you "Thank You"."

XXXXXX

It was already past 10PM. Andrew and I were finishing up for the evening. It was one of the three days a week where I allowed myself to work late in the Oval. Mellie and I had an arrangement for her to have dinner with Karen and Teddy in the residence on those nights. It wasn't by coincidence that Andrew chose to stay late on the same nights; it allowed him to leave with Mellie without any suspicion.

"When I first came here...I resented you...real bad. I think..I practically hated you," Andrew began. The sudden shift in conversation threw me. It was as if Andrew was giving confessional. "When you had Olivia come to me about Mellie, that was low...For her of all people to judge my relationship with Mellie?...I thought you and her were the biggest hypocrites I could ever know."

This conversation was long in coming. We had dismissed it; glossed over it and pretended everything was great between us. But it wasn't and I knew it was time to put it all on the table. He needed to talk and I respected him enough to know I needed to listen.

Andrew and I always made a great political team. He was smart, daring and yet sensible; I valued his political opinion. However, my personal life was another matter and while I could respect what he had to say, I didn't want to get into a deep philosophical discussion where he examined my psyche, my actions and intentions. I already had a therapist that was performing that tedious task on a weekly basis.

"I just...I never understood you Fitz. I never understood why you couldn't appreciate Mellie; why you kept Olivia hanging on a string; why you couldn't just make a choice and be done with it….I figured you were just a selfish son of a bitch. But I get it now. I get the frustration of hiding who you love and being weighed down by public perceptions and civic responsibilities...Still..."

He shook his head, taking a moment to gather his thoughts, "Olivia said to me once that men like me, like you, always choose power over love. Always….But I just don't know if I would have made the same choices you did."

It probably should have felt strange to be discussing this with a man who was sleeping with my wife and still pursuing a relationship with my ex-wife. Oddly, though, it doesn't bother me. I didn't feel jealous or contentious; I didn't have the urge to fight against it. I'm indifferent to it all.

"You wouldn't have…You're wiser than me Andrew. You would've known the moment you were losing her and you would've fought to keep her. You would've given up everything….everything…to keep her. I didn't and I will pay for it every single day of my life."

I wasn't looking for his pity and thankfully he didn't offer it. In the words of my therapist, I was learning to live in my truth. Andrew nodded his head in understanding, gathered the last of his papers and left the Oval.

XXXXXX

I was on my second round of news cycle. I took another swallow of my beer while I watched CNN criticize my foreign policy and MSNBC host a round-table discussion on the consequences of the Presidential Divorce. Interestingly, the women criticized Mellie while the men criticized me; I wondered if that was by design. Even though I had given a full press conference about the divorce, it was evident that none of them believed the reasons I provided. They were too busy speculating on other possible causes of the fall out. Part of their analysis was all the sex scandals I faced during my terms – Amanda Tanner, Jeanine Locke and of course Olivia Pope. When Olivia's face flashed on the screen, I felt my heart rate beat faster.

There was not a day that went by that I didn't think about her; miss her and remember one aspect of our relationship or another. But then the shroud of the darker periods would weigh in and I would wonder if I had ruined her life. Would she have been happier if she never met me?

Somewhere in the distance I heard a phone ringing. It wasn't the residence phone and it wasn't my cell phone. After several rings it stopped. I checked Karen's room and saw her phone charging on her nightstand.

Maybe I was hearing things. I decided to take a shower and go to bed. I was almost undressed when I heard the ringing again. I searched through the rooms, trying to get closer and closer to the sound.

I finally found the source of the ringing. It was a phone I had never seen before; a burner phone in my coat pocket. I had no idea how it got there or who put it there. The caller ID showed a restricted number. I almost pressed ignore but curiosity got the best of me and I touched the button to answer the line.

I could hear the faint breathing on the other end and I waited to see what the caller would say.

"Hi."

I almost dropped the phone; hearing her voice on the phone was the last thing I ever expected. I was speechless. I didn't realized how starved I was to hear her speak until I found myself clinging to and repeating her "Hi" in my head on a constant loop.

"Fitz?" her voice was barely a whisper. It was tentative, desperate, shy even; like she was afraid I would hang up in her face or refuse to talk to her.

"Fitz please….please don't hang up."

**_(A/N: I truly hadn't planned on doing this. I was going to leave the one-shot and not come back to this story but the ideas kept coming and as much as I tried to ignore it, it kept coming back. So here it is. The feedback I received for chapter 1 was better than I expected. There were some who really, really hated it. But for the most part many of you were able to tolerate the story. LOL_**

**_OLITZ is 100% my endgame but IMO they both need to be stronger in order to truly commit to each other._**

**_My idea for the next chapter will be the OLITZ conversation. I can't promise when it will be posted as I have the other stories to update but it's coming...I promise._**

**_Again, I know some of you may hate this update too and that's okay. I understand. I hate their circumstances too but as they say "it is what it is"._**

**_Thanks for suffering through the story.)_**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Fitz….Fitz please don't hang up."

Any breathable air I had seemed to thin out and an indistinguishable sound escaped from me. I cleared my throat and strangled a response. "I….I'm here."

"Were you asleep? Did I disturb you?"

"Uh no. You know me; I can't sleep without at least…."

"Three news cycles," she finished my sentence and the gesture created a fragment of warmth within me; fleeting though it was.

She said nothing else but I could feel her smile through the phone. I could imagine her settling in on her couch, silk pajamas, watching the news rounds and drinking her wine with a glass bowl full of popcorn that she never really finished. I wondered if Jake was there with her; I dismissed the thought but not before it hardened me again.

My body was tensing. I downed the last of my beer but it did nothing for me; the anxiety still remained. It was the feeling that returned over and over again since her return to DC. In all these years, whether we were fighting or speaking, together or apart, nothing about her ever created such unease within me. No matter what our circumstances were I always found a peace when I was in her vicinity; it was if as long as I could see her or know she was around, I could breathe. The tightening within my chest; the worry-filled minutes when I knew I was holding on to her by a frail string were somehow forgotten as long as I could look into her eyes or hear her voice.

That was all gone now. After she left, I never felt that sense of peace again and I doubted I ever would.

"I just wanted to say thank you for coming. I know my father did some horrible things to you and your family and I'm truly sorry for it. I wish…I wish, I could…"

I knew her remorse was genuine but it wasn't her burden to bear. "Don't….I don't need you to take on his sins Olivia. They were his alone. They don't belong with you….When did you find out?"

Rowan had managed to dupe me into believing Maya Pope murdered my son but Cyrus eventually exposed the truth.

"When I got back…It was my father's deathbed confession. Jake, of course knew all along but said he thought it best not tell me the truth."

There were quite a few things I wanted to say in response to that statement but I remained discernibly tight-lipped on the subject of Jake.

"Well it's definitely a hard pill to swallow….I don't think I'll ever be over it…to know that it was Tom who…" I had to pause to control my emotions. After all this time, I still could not speak of Tom without strong bile rising out of my throat. I was completely disgusted that a person close to me, a trusted confidant, would commit such a heinous act against a child; my child. "It's been hard coming to the realization that everyone I trusted has turned on me in one way or another. Don't get me wrong, you all support the OFFICE of the President to your dying breath, but Fitz, the man, not so much. Betrayal is commonplace here."

I don't know why I said all of that to her. Unloading my feelings was likely not the reason for her phone call.

I slumped down on the couch and put my feet up on the table. She didn't seem to be inclined to respond to my previous statements but I knew she was mulling it over and replaying it in her mind; scrutinizing every word. I started again. "How did you…How did I get this phone?"

"Abby."

"Mmm, Abby."

Something about my tone must have made her worry over Abby's presumptuousness. She quickly added, "I hope it's okay… I just needed to talk to you and it seemed to be the best way."

"You could have come to the White House if you wanted to talk to me."

"I didn't think I would be welcome. I didn't know if you…I didn't know if you wanted to see me." She was nervous. Olivia Pope didn't fear much but she did fear rejection and abandonment. To allay that fear, she made sure she was the first one rejecting and abandoning; she needed the control.

I couldn't promise that I would have been ready to see her had she came anyway. It was safer to change the subject. "The roundtable discussion on MSNBC was good."

She chuckled dryly, "Good?...They're vilifying you. They're blaming everything on you Fitz. I'm cringing just watching it….Who handled your PR? You had to know there would be a huge fallout that would continue for a long time throughout your term. Who strategized this out for you? I don't think it was handled properly. Maybe you should…."

"Olivia calm down." She was getting worked up. I knew this was how her mind worked but I didn't need her help with my personal life; not anymore. "Everything is as it should be; it's all being handled. You don't need to concern yourself with it."

She took a couple of deep breaths. It went against everything within her not to get involved and fix whatever was broken. The problem was, in her eyes, I was what needed fixing; forever broken always in need of a rescue. She had a complex that way; drawing people to her that were in desperate need. It allowed her to control them; ensure their devotion and gratitude, while fulfilling a strong desire to be their Savior.

To her I was no different. Similar to a client or hired employee – she made the decisions for me; she knew what was best and despite my feelings, she would always follow the course of action that brought about minimal public damage.

"I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that you're divorced. Its….its…unbelievable. How did you get Mellie and Cyrus to go along with it?

"I didn't really give them a choice. In the end, with the information I had, they had no choice but to go along with my plan."

"Which was what?"

"Mellie and I divorcing; I get full custody of the kids; she gets the backing of the White House for her political ambitions and Cyrus gets to keep his job while handling the national fallout from my decision. I took a big hit in my approval ratings but I had no other choice, I had to keep pushing through it. The country may not ever get over it but I'm happier; Mel is happier and the children are content."

"Mellie loved being First Lady," there was a wonderment in her voice as if she couldn't believe that I had accomplished what I had desired for so long and I had done it alone; without her help. I couldn't help the feeling of pride swelling with in me at the thought.

"And she gets to keep the title. I promised that I wouldn't remarry while in office anyway." It had been a simple decision for me. I had no intention of remarrying. Right now, dating didn't even seem to be an appealing prospect.

"Are you okay with me helping your wife….helping Mellie with her campaign?"

"Honestly, I didn't think you would still be here. I thought you would leave after your father's funeral."

"No. I'm staying."

There was a pregnant pause while I tried to figure out how I felt about her staying. Aside from the death of my son, her leaving as the hardest thing I ever had to deal with in my life. But I dealt with it and I managed to keep living. I realized that part of my successful recovery was coming to terms with the likelihood that I would never see her again. I had become resolved to it because seeing her again meant seeing the life she built with someone that was not me.

A new type of pain was coming over me; one that I had yet to conquer. I took a deep breath, determined to get temporary mastery over my emotions. I could break down later in isolation.

"I have no problem with it. I only have one condition. I told her but as you know Mellie hears what she wants to hear and discards the rest. So I'm hoping you will respect the fact that I do not want my children involved in her campaign."

"Of course," she responded without hesitation.

"Thank you."

She became quiet and I figured that would be the end of our conversation. This would be our pattern – superficial discussions, never broaching the deep underlying issues. It was best to let the past remain where it was.

"Listen Fitz, I know how I left hurt you and I know you don't quite understand why I did what I did but…"

My sigh cut her off. "Olivia, do you really want to have this discussion?"

"I do. I just need to explain. I just…Can you just hear me out?...While my reasons may not make sense to you Fitz, they made sense to me at the time. I needed to leave. I couldn't stay here knowing that my family was responsible for Jerry's death. Seeing you carry your son from that auditorium broke my heart and it all became too much for me. I started to think how much better it would be for everyone if I just left; if I wasn't the cause of all these horrible acts; if I wasn't the center of the storm. I thought maybe if I went away, the storm would pass; everyone could lead their lives as normal and we could all finally stand in the light."

"Thank you for explaining." My voice was polite and flat.

She waited for me to say more but I didn't. "Is that it? Is that all you're going to say?"

"I don't know what else to say. What else is there to say Olivia? I heard you out. I heard every one of your reasons like you asked me to. That was the point right? For me to understand how **YOU** felt?"

"Fitz…" she pled.

"Like I said I don't think we should have this discussion."

"I just don't want you to hate me..."

"I don't hate you."

"….And we could be friends, maybe."

I almost laughed at the absurdity of the idea. We were much too volatile and passionate to be confined to a platonic friendship. "I really don't think that is a good idea. We wouldn't work as friends. And I don't see Jake approving of our friendly relationship."

"Jake has no problem with…."

"Well good for him." I was edgy and the sarcasm was starting to show. There was not enough therapy in the world that would allow me to have a full calm, civilized conversation with her about Jake.

After a short intake of breath, she continued, "Just so you know, Jake is calling in favors to be the new Director of the White House Military Office."

My head fell to the back of the couch. I knew exactly what this meant: Jake may not be working in the West Wing but he would work in the White House and our interactions would be frequent.

This was the test. If I was resolved to the current state of our relationship then I should have no problem with Jake taking the new position. If I still held on to the possibility of an "US" then I would exercise my authority to make sure he is rejected.

"Thank you for the heads up. I will leave the appointment of the position to Cyrus. I would prefer not to get involved in it…But I won't influence Cyrus to reject him for the position…Is that it? Or were there other favors you needed to ask of me?"

She was offended. "I…I wasn't asking you to do him any favors. That wasn't why I told you…I just wanted you to know in advance so that you wouldn't be caught off guard."

I desperately hoped this was the end of the conversation. My head was starting to throb and I was having great difficulty controlling my irritation with her at the moment.

"You know Fitz, we never would have worked out. We never would have made it. It would've ruined both of us to stay together."

"Well, that's what you and Mellie and Cyrus have been telling me since day one."

"That's not fair."

"Oh come on Olivia you know it's true. It was always you, Cyrus and Mellie on one team and me on the other. Any progress we would make you would try your hardest to sabotage it; find any excuse to pull away and ultimately run away. It's what you do."

"You were married." That was her answer; the only answer. It was the trump card to excuse every choice she made in our relationship.

"I was….And what did you want from me? What did you want me to do? Did you want me to walk away from it all for you? I think I offered and tried to do that once or twice or maybe three times before. Did you want me to stay put and run again; run clean, run with Mellie by my side? What did you want me to do?"

"I wanted you to do what was best for everyone."

Her feeding me that same line of reason fed my frustration. "Dammit Olivia! Conversations like this only work if you are being honest. Otherwise it's bullshit and pointless. I asked what did you want?"

Her voice rose to match my tone. "I didn't call for you to be an asshole Fitz. I called to apologize."

"No…no you didn't. You called to ease your guilt. You called to make sure I knew how **YOU** felt. Why **YOU** needed to leave. What all of this was doing to **YOU**. You aren't sorry for leaving. If the same choice was put before you today, you would make the same, exact decision. We both know that. If I had started the divorce process months ago would you have stayed?...Would that have prevented you from running?"

She became quiet and we both knew the answer.

She must have decided that for her the conversation was over. "Goodnight Fitz," was all she said before disconnecting the call.

XXXXXX

I had lost track of time. My meeting was running over but I hadn't noticed because I felt more relaxed than I had in over a week. It felt good to have a conversation with the someone that made me forget that I held the highest office in the land.

"I think our next step is for you to meet my daughter, Karen and," I frowned and paused, "Of course her mother will want to meet you as well." I already knew Mellie would hate the idea.

She smiled in understanding. "Mr. President I have to admit that this did not feel like a job interview. It felt like a conversation between friends."

"Good. I would like you to feel as comfortable as possible with our family. I wish we had hired you from the beginning. As I explained, Karen had some difficulty with her first therapist but I think this will be a much better fit."

Dr. Michelle Velazquez had an extensive resume and impeccable references. Abby recommended her for the position. And after a lengthy, intrusive vetting process to thoroughly investigate her background, she was finally ready for consideration. There were others to consider but as far as Fitz was concerned no further interviews were required.

"That sounds great. I can't wait to meet both of them."

There was a knock at the door and Lauren peaked in. "Mr. President, your next appointment has been waiting for over 10 minutes. Mrs. Grant asked that I remind you she is waiting with Ms. Pope."

"Thank you Lauren, you can show them in."

"I guess that's my queue," Michelle said as she stood from her seat.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Lauren open the door to allow Mellie and Olivia to enter. I stood and held out my hand, "Thank you again for coming in Michelle. I will be following up with you to set up another appointment."

"You're welcome Mr. President. It was really my pleasure."

"And Michelle, this is my ex-wife Mellie Grant and this is Olivia Pope."

I watched as the women shook hands and for the first time I allowed myself to fully admire Michelle's attractive looks. She was a very beautiful woman with a pleasant personality. She was right; our conversation did feel like two old friends catching up on each other's lives.

"It's nice to meet you. Michelle, is it?" Mellie said. The pretense of Southern Gentility was in full affect and I nearly rolled my eyes at the nauseating display. Mellie hated the woman just because she was beautiful.

"Yes, Ma'am it is. And I look forward to working with your family…I have to go but I will be here for our next meeting." Michelle responded before walking out of the Oval Office.

When they were alone, Mellie spoke first, "Fitz dear who was that?"

I walked behind my desk, putting a barrier between me and them.

"That was Karen's new therapist."

"What!... Why am I the last person to know these things?"

I prayed for patience. "Mellie, we talked about this. Three times in fact. I told you that Karen needed a therapist and that I was interviewing candidates."

Mellie waved a dismissive hand as if my statement was irrelevant to the conversation. "And I suppose the therapist HAS to be a woman who looks like that!" Mellie raved as she pointed to the closed door.

I finally focused on Olivia who remained standing close to the door. Uncomfortable as she was, she looked ready to bolt at any moment. Still, she was radiant. Without thought, my eyes traveled the full length of her body; she was amazingly beautiful. I realized how much I missed being around her; sharing the same atmosphere as she did. The old feelings were surfacing and I knew the days to come, dealing with her and Mellie would be hardest on me – for a variety of reasons.

We hadn't spoken to one another since that last phone call. I kept the phone locked in a drawer in the residential suites. I didn't expect her to call again; at the moment neither of us could handle the explosibe nature of our relationship.

I ignored Mellie's jealous spate and calmly suggested, "Why don't we all sit down and start the meeting?"

Olivia blinked and smiled at me. I could tell she was thankful for the change in subject. I ventured to assume it would be awkward for her, as my former mistress, to discuss my love life with my ex-wife.

"Yes, that would be great," Olivia said in agreement.

Mellie sucked her teeth but ultimately complied. They sat across from each other on the couches while I took the chair.

Olivia handed us both folders with information on talking points; matters we could and could not discuss; measures taken to present a united front. She also provided a schedule of events, mostly speaking engagements for Mellie but she explained that it would be good for me to know because in preparation for the interviews several journalists may reach out the Oval for a comment. She even had my comment prepared, word for word.

Once the discussion began, it flowed smoothly. I had no major issues with anything that was prepared and I had no problem reading from a prepared statement.

"Fitz I would like to have a formal sit-down with Michelle," Mellie said as we concluded the meeting. "I refuse to be left out of this interview process."

I should have known Mellie would not miss the opportunity to return to the original topic of discussion.

Mellie said her name with such disgust that I instantly knew she would create unnecessary problems for Michelle.

"That is not a problem Mellie. What will be a problem is if you intentionally sabotage this arrangement simply because the woman is attractive. You can sit down with her but it's only to get to know her better because if Karen likes her, she's hired; end of discussion."

"So I don't get a say in this at all?" Mellie was throwing a tantrum and stomped her foot in annoyance.

"No."

Mellie was in a rage. She wanted to say so much more to me but remembered that Olivia was still in the room. "Remember the terms of our divorce Fitz…no one else will be your First Lady," she warned.

I chuckled at her jealousy. It was ridiculous. "Come on Mellie…let it go. We are over…you have moved on and everyone is happy. Just let it go."

She didn't like the reminder of our severed ties and her lack of influence in my life. She turned in a huff and left the Oval, effectively leaving me alone with Olivia. _Dammit!_

This was the first time in almost ten months that I had been alone with her. How could two people could experience something so magical, so compelling and the power of it send them to their knees; devastate them while leaving them yearning and breathless for more? Briefly I wondered if she felt it too and then I saw it. I saw her. I saw the woman I would give anything I had to have her love me enough to do the same.

I bowed my head to break the electric contact; the pull was the same, so intense that it sometimes scared me. I realized that no matter what I did; no matter who came and went in our lives, I would love her to the point of madness and every day without her I would continue to die just a little bit more until I numbed all the pain.

The tension in the room was thick. I spoke first. "Listen, I'm sorry about my harshness on the phone last time we spoke. It won't happen again. And I think we can both agree that keeping our relationship professional for the sake of Mellie's campaign is best," I offered peacefully as I resumed my place behind my desk.

She gave a slight nod before walking closer to the desk. "Um…if you plan on dating someone you should probably let me know. I….it won't be good if it comes out in the press and Mellie is blind-sided in an interview with it. I need to prepare her for it."

As I stared at her, I saw the saddest expression come over her eyes. Over the years, I had seen many emotions play across her face. And I could read them all. This was no different. I understood it; I could empathize with it. Her pain was in my heart. But I didn't address it; I couldn't address it. There wasn't a resolution for it.

"I understand and I will."

XXXXXX

Today was a juggling act. I had a President on one line, a Prime Minister on another and Cyrus with his Deputy Chief of Staff, Brian, conducting a rather heated side-bar conversation that threatened my concentration. After 15 minutes of the same circus, I could take no more. I ended the phone conversations by detailing my ideas for a resolution and encouraging each of the leaders to consider their positions and how we could work together.

Some days, I could find humor in Cyrus and Brian's heated arguments; I didn't even mind refereeing a few here and there but today their back and forth squabbles only left me feeling drained.

I was starting to tune them out as I heard what appeared to be a commotion at Lauren's desk. She was telling someone I was not available. I then heard Daniel's booming voice re-iterate the same sentiment. I was already out of my seat and walking toward the door when she burst in.

I frowned at her appearance. She had been crying; her eyes were puffy and read; her cheeks stained with shed tears. She stared at me with a mixture of hurt, disappointment, fear and anger.

"Olivia…what are you doing here? What's wrong?" I asked in genuine perplexity. We had not had any communication since the meeting with Mellie. There was no need for it.

"You….You sold it Fitz!," she began in desperation as fresh tears began to choke her voice.

I knew exactly what she was talking about and I turned away from her. I couldn't watch her breakdown over it. I had already spent many a night crying over a crumbled future; drinking myself into oblivion.

Cyrus and Brian wisely vacated the office. Even after they were gone, I still couldn't turn to face her.

"How could you…..how could you do that Fitz? How could you sell our house? You sold our future, our dreams! How could you do that?" she cried; her sobs echoing through the Oval.

I let her vent out all of her frustration. She needed to mourn the loss of our dreams, just as I had.

"No matter what I happened, I needed you to believe in us. You were my center Fitz. I held on because you held on. I needed you to tell me that it was possible; that we could be together. I know….I know I fucked up but Fitz you were supposed to keep believing….I just….I just needed you to believe."

**(A/N: I usually don't do this but I'm giving you a spoiler. In consideration of Olivia, she never said she was actually engaged to Jake. that was something Fitz found out; not something she told him.**

**It's funny because I actually got someone on Twitter asking me about updating this story and I thought "Are you sure?" I thought this would be the LAST story anyone wanted updated but oh well...**

**I don't want to comment on my predictions for Season 4 but I would love to hear yours.**

**Thank you to anyone who is still with this story. Thank you for hanging on.)**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"What stopped you from taking a drink?"

"Karen…she walked in the office right when I was going to call Lauren and send for something," I admitted easily. I had, long ago, lost the emotional cloak of embarrassment with Dr. Manheim. He had already seen me at my worse, my very worse. Every dark aspect of my personality had been openly exposed to him; the honeymoon pretense phase of our relationship had long been discarded. Now I sat before him, a shell of a man, faults, indiscretions, sins and heinous acts laid bare.

"Tell me about that," the gray-haired older man prompted.

"It was about an hour after the incident with Olivia." That sharp ache came again; whenever I recalled the look on her face in my office it returned. If I thought I had broken her spirits before, this was nothing in comparison. Her anguish bore a hole into my already hollow insides. She had become so hysterical that I called for the on-staff doctor to aid her to the medical unit office. They administered a sedative to allow her to sleep for a couple of hours.

XXX

_When Karen came into my office, her pain-stricken features almost made me turn away from her and hide. As long as I live, I would never forget the pain I caused my children. Whether it was my ambition for this office or my selfish predilections, all my decisions seemed to affect them in horrible ways. _

"_Dad, what happened to Olivia? Why is she in the medical office?" Karen asked innocently. I didn't bother trying to figure out how she found out. It really wasn't important. I invited her to sit on the couch next to me and attempted a comforting, reassuring smile but I knew she saw right through it. _

"_She became sick during our meeting….almost faint, so I called the nurse. I'm told that she will be fine after some rest. Don't worry."_

"_Why…why aren't you there with her?"_

_The question took me aback. Karen's perceptiveness never ceased to baffle me. Still it aged her, unfairly. I didn't have the courage to ask her what she knew about my relationship with Olivia. It would create dialogue and questions that I was too much of a coward to answer right now. The fact that she knew anything still, to some extent, made me uncomfortable. _

_I deflected the question. "She's not alone. I sent for Abby; she's with her. And I had Abby call her fiancé, Captain Jake Ballard."_

"_Fiancé?" Karen frowned in confusion. "Are you sure? She doesn't have a ring on. People usually wear a ring when they are engaged, don't they?"_

_It was my turn to frown in confusion. I looked away from Karen's beautifully innocent, inquisitive stare. I needed to think. Where had I heard about their engagement? I knew for sure it wasn't Olivia or Jake. From where then? It had to be a reliable source for me to consider as fact, right? I concentrated in thought, trying to recall looking at her hand. And I realized that her ring finger was in fact bare. She still wore the ring I gave her on her fore finger but I excused that to habitual more than anything else. _

_I wasn't sure if she was engaged. And what's more, I didn't think I had the right to ask her. _

_Karen sensed my indecision and wisely advised, "I think she would like to see you Dad. You should go see her."_

XXX

"Would it matter to you…whether she was engaged or not?" Dr. Manheim now asked.

My first instinct is to give the answer that casts me in the most favorable light; to show far I had come, how much I had recovered and moved on. But pretending was not reality.

"It shouldn't but it does….She doesn't belong to me, she never did….And she deserves to be happy…To find a person that she can live a real life with? I don't have the right to care….It's none of my business."

"Did you go see her?"

"I didn't….I couldn't. I didn't know what to say to her. I didn't want to explain that in my anger I almost tore the house apart with my bare hands or that the decision to sell it was one of the hardest I had to make in my life. I didn't think it would do either of us any good to go into that."

Dr. Manheim regarded me thoughtfully. Staring at me over the edge of his dark rim glasses, I was very familiar with the look. It was the look he gave to encourage me to re-analyze my thought process. Maybe Olivia deserved to know that I didn't sell the house casually; it wasn't a decision made on a whim or at the spur of the moment. It came after I spent three days holed up in the house, alternating between drinking, crying, agonizing and trying to find a reason why what I had done, the house I spent years trying to create for her and for us, was not good enough; why my love was not good enough.

"Whether it's true or not, you have to come to a resolution within yourself on whether you can support her decisions as much as you may disagree with them. Can you refrain from using shame and guilt to influence her as you have in the past?"

Our sessions had already revealed so many of the toxic traits I exhibited during our tumultuous relationship; all with the goal of keeping her tied to me. As awakening as the experience was, I soon had to face it from another person's perspective. It was a distasteful feeling, one I wanted to reject and rebuke as false but the truthfulness rung through and I knew I had to accept it; regardless of the source.

XXX

"_Are you going to tell me what happened between you two today?" Jake asked after he was shown into the Oval. I agreed to see him as a courtesy to Olivia's illness, not because of any fondness between us, which had died long ago._

_Dressed in full uniform, I knew he had come from his post at the Pentagon. As it turns out, Cyrus blocked Jake's promotion to the White House staff. Looking into the face of the man who killed his husband on a regular basis was beyond what even he could stomach. Still, I knew that Jake blamed me for his misfortune as he had for so many other troubles in his life. _

_I knew he had just come from visiting Olivia. The anger in his eyes confirmed that he blamed me for her current condition. _

"_I'm sure Olivia can fill you in on anything you need to know."_

"_We both know that it takes a lot for Olivia to confide in anyone about you?" he snarled. His face of contempt was not welcome or warranted. _

_My sigh of irritation could not have been loud enough. "Well then I don't think we have anything else to discuss," I responded dismissively. _

_Looking at Jake, I realized how unstable he truly was. He was teetering so close to the edge that stressful situations could cause him to lash out at his targets mercilessly. For a moment I wondered if he ever attacked Olivia but I quickly dismissed the thought; Olivia would never allow that. _

_I bore the blame for bringing him into our lives. I once thought his loyalty to our friendship would override everything; that he would be the one I could trust when there was no one else but it was a mistake in judgment that cost me what I held dear to my heart. His level of psychosis bordered on a callous disrespect for the lives of others, especially if he felt challenged, ignored or considered inconsequential. Still, Olivia saw something in him that she felt attracted to, so I had to give him the benefit of the doubt. _

"_You're still not willing to take responsibility for what you've done to her are you?" his voice was beginning to escalate. I didn't think he was able to have a calm conversation; his emotions ran too high sometimes hindering his ability to speak rationally. _

"_Jake…."I owed explanations and apologies to many people but never to him. I would never explain myself to him. I struggled to hold on to my calm demeanor._

"_No!...You don't get it do you!...You are so focus on what everyone does to you that you cannot even fathom what you have done to everyone else. You have completely destroyed her. Can you even imagine what it was like to live under the cloud of being the President's Mistress? Can you even consider for one moment what that has done to her self-esteem and her ability to like herself? For 6 fucking years you dangled her on a string with empty promises while you were protected by these walls with your wife and kids and the love of the American people. What did she have? All she could do was live on the outside looking in and alone… Do you even know what that kind of treatment can do to a person?"_

_He was practically foaming at the mouth but it didn't take away the validity of his words. I had often lived with romantic thoughts that by making her my wife and First Lady, the position would somehow be the automatic switch that would bring unimaginable happiness to both of us. Our discussions were largely based on fantasy; no substantive conversations on our fears, the challenges we would face and the resolution that would get us closer to our goals. Not for the first time, I wondered if I forced my dreams on her, instead of inviting her to share hers with me. _

"_I have spent the last several months watching her cry herself to sleep at night; constantly checking her phone just waiting for your call; watching the door, waiting for you to rescue her. And when it didn't happen, she still couldn't move on; you still controlled her and she hated herself for it. She walked around like a ghost. It was horrible watching her crumble like that. And I knew…I knew the moment we came back here, you would do this! I knew you would destroy her all over again!...You just existing destroys her over and over again every day!...I hope to god that after this is over, she will listen to me and move far away from you….permanently this time!"_

XXX

"How do you feel about what he said?"

There wasn't a simple answer to his question. I could only explain what Olivia meant to me; how I saw her through my own eyes.

"The first time I saw Olivia I was struck by the power and beauty she radiated. She was amazing; she literally took my breath away and it sounds crazy but I fell in love with her almost instantly. Sometimes I would find myself just staring at her; mesmerized by the way she moved and the confidence she possessed. Her intelligence left me speechless all the time; she just thought about things in a way that I had never seen before. I was completely taken by her. But when I look at her now - as amazing and beautiful as she is and always will be - the light is gone. There's something missing from her; something I saw that first day that over time has faded."

We sat in silence while Dr. Manheim allowed me to compose my thoughts. It was dignifying and I appreciated the silence; it was his way of allowing me to come to realize my own truths. As much as I wanted to discount everything Jake said, I had to admit that his words reflected an insight into Olivia's feelings that I wasn't granted access to. She allowed him to penetrate a wall into her emotions that I could never get through. I wasn't given the privilege.

"That light in her eyes….it's gone. And I think….I know it's because of her relationship with me. I have changed her…Being with me changed her and not for the best; obviously it has been for the worse. So…..for the most part I agree with what he said. I didn't spend enough time considering how our relationship affected her; I just kept pushing and pushing and slowly breaking her down. At the time, I truly thought our love was enough; it was all that was needed but it was naïve and stupid of me."

Dr. Manheim spoke, "Part of the recovery process is acknowledging how our actions have injured others and seek to remedy the breaches but there is also a danger in unduly taking on all burdens from failed relationships. It is just as unhealthy and counterproductive to place all the blame upon yourself. You need to look at things objectively and realize that Olivia owns the power of her choices. She too chose to be in a relationship with you. I cannot speak for her feelings about you but her actions seem to indicate a deep love for you as well."

XXX

"Have I ever told you why I hate Republicans?"

I looked up from the file I was reading to find Abby now walking in step with me.

"I thought I told you about that….Your have to stop sneaking up on me, I think I need to have the Secret Service fit you with a cow bell," I joked. I actually enjoyed our sparing matches. Abby kept me on my toes and I had come to appreciate it. She was also brutally honest and had no filter, which at times bristled but still, I enjoyed talking to her.

"Yeah…we'll see about that," she challenged. As we continued walking down the hall, she explained, "Anyway…I do hate Republicans, present company excluded of course….."

"Thank you," I interjected appreciatively.

"You're welcome. Anyway my ex-husband was a Republican. We got married way too young; I thought I loved him, even though I didn't even know what love was at the time. I was in a relationship that completely broke my heart. I was on the rebound. His family was rich; he was ambitious and I was supposed to be the perfect political housewife who doted on her husband hand and foot."

Despite the hustle of conversations and foot traffic around us, I was now keenly interested in what Abby had to say. Of course, I knew of her past relationship but the details and specifics were personal, not part of the vetting process and therefore I never inquired.

She could tell I had trouble seeing her in that role. "I know right? Me….a Stepford Wife….impossible. But at the time I thought that was what I wanted because I loved him. It didn't take long for the real me to surface and Charles didn't like it. He didn't like the back talk and the questioning…..he basically didn't like me using my brain. And that's when the beatings started."

I stopped walking; shocked at the revelation. She pushed me along. "Keep walking Mr. President, you'll be late for your meeting."

I didn't have another meeting immediately scheduled, which she knew, but at her direction I kept walking. She obviously did not want any sympathy from me.

"It took a while for me to realize that the physical abuse started long after the emotional abuse began. He had convinced me of things that were not true; capitalized on my weakness and vulnerabilities and used them against me. He enjoyed seeing me weak because I could be controlled better that way….It's a dangerous situation to be in."

We finally made it to the Oval but I still had no clue why she told me such intimate details about her life.

She looked me in the eye as she now stated, "I'm telling you this because sometimes women don't realize a predator is in their life until it's too late; until that person already has control over them emotionally. He takes advantage of her vulnerable state and inserts his way into her life. For some women, it's by convincing them how much they need him for others," she paused as her stare grew intense, emphasizing the pointedness of our conversation. "…It's by convincing them that HE needs her to save him. Either way, when women are afraid to be alone or they have been severely hurt by a relationship, the can accept the most unhealthy relationship to fill the void. It can be dangerous because these predators are most often violent men who have no problem putting their hands on a woman."

She walked away and left me standing there dumfounded and speechless. My mouth dropped open as I perceived the true meaning behind her words; I couldn't believe that it would come to that. I didn't want to believe it to be possible.

XXX

"Hello…Fitz?" She sounded out of breath.

"Hello…did….did I catch you at a bad time?" I knew my voice was shaky and nervous. It didn't matter that I had called her so many times before or that I was the President of the United States; after all this time, one woman could make me feel like an awkward 16 year old with pimples trying to talk to the most beautiful girl in the school.

"No…No…I ran down the hall to get the phone," she rushed out with a light chuckle.

Her voice cheery and delightful; she sounded happy. I automatically smiled in response.

I cleared my throat to escape the haze. "Oh…well I won't keep you….I just ah…I just needed to make sure you were ok."

There was an intake of breath. "OK as in what? What do you mean?"

"I mean do you feel okay?...Do you feel….safe?"

She went silent. The cheeriness had dissipated because the conversation had turned. I didn't need to say much more; she knew what my question meant.

It occurred to me that the nature of our circumstances would always make whatever discussions we had heavy, intense and serious. We would never be the kind of people that had conversations about nothing and laughing about everything.

It was a shame. I would have loved to take her out for dinner at a nice restaurant or meet her for coffee at a corner shop and just talk about whatever came to her mind, no matter how meaningless. I would have loved to see her throw her head back and laugh unreservedly simply because she felt like doing so. But that was what normal people did and we were far, very far, from normal.

"Fitz you do not have to worry about me. I am fine." Her voice had taken on a professional tone, which translated to whatever, if anything, was going on she was not going to discuss it with me.

"OK…I mean I just needed to be certain that no one was hurting you. No matter what…I just need to make sure you are safe."

I would never be able to ignore the implications of my conversation with Abby. I couldn't just pretend it didn't happen or that I was reading more into it than what she meant. And all day my mind had gone back and forth with whether to make this call or take it upon myself to assign some agents to watch over her. But the last time I had her watched led to disastrous consequences so calling was my only option.

Another sharp intake of breath told me I was tapping into her emotions. Her softened and was more giving when next she spoke, "Fitz….I…."

"Hey Liv, you want me to pour you another glass of wine?….." came Jake's voice in the background; loud and distinct and solely for my benefit. It was a sign that I had intruded on them; interrupted their evening.

After a split second of awkwardness and disappointment, I casually smoothed it over and spoke up first. "So….listen….since you are definitely okay and everything, I'm going to let you go." She tried to interject but I kept talking as if I had not heard. "Sorry for calling so late….have a good night."

I quickly disconnected the call. I completely turned off the phone and put it in the bottom drawer of my dresser.

I had given her an opening. If something was wrong; if she wanted my help, she would have said something. She didn't sound afraid or sad, as a matter of fact; before I brought the subject up she was feeling good. She was happy.

The sinking feeling of loneliness and grief returned with a vengeance. And for what had to be the 422nd day I wondered would I ever get over this. The time warp was draining me. Would I ever conquer this? And if I did, what kind of man would I be afterward?

XXX

"Come on Teddy…let's go inside and see who all is here," I gently coaxed and he tentatively continued to take small steps beside me.

Teddy could sense the upheaval in our family and as a result he clung to Karen and me. When he encountered strangers he latched on to us with a fierce hold as if he feared someone would take him away.

Unfortunately, he was only slightly less wary of Mellie. He would allow her to touch and hug him but after a brief contact he would immediately retreat back to my side.

His grip on my fingers tightened as I walked him into the playroom where Mellie, Karen and Olivia waited with a journalist and camera crew. The idea was to get a photo spread of Mellie with her children in different areas of the White House. She and Olivia hoped it would convey the idea that (1) Mellie, who still had full access to the White House, remained friends with me as we raise our children together and (2) the close, unshakable bond she, as a mother, still had with her children.

While my approval ratings remained in the toilet as I continued to receive heavy criticism as the President whose philandering ways destroyed his marriage and his family, Mellie took hits too. Several news outlets branded her as the "ice queen"; they claimed that she abandoned her children for her ambition.

Our joint confirmations that the health and well-being of our children was our priority and that we both agreed that we did not want to uproot the children did nothing to endear America to her. Commentary calling her disingenuous and lacking overall warmth continued to circulate heavily. But if all went well, the interview would be the start of turning public perception in her favor.

To ease his worries, I walked Teddy around to everyone and introduced him. He had learned to be polite, say "Hello" and shake people's hands in greeting. Mellie took him into a bear hug that made him grimace uncomfortably. She loudly kissed his cheek before setting him back down, "My darling baby boy…They grow up so fast, don't they?" Teddy immediately ran over to his toys in the center of the floor and Karen joined him.

It was moments like these watching Karen and Teddy together that I really missed my son. I had to take several deep breaths to prevent the loss from immobilizing me.

We all recognized Mellie's gestures to be a fine performance but no one commented on it. For her sake, I hope what she envisioned translated well on camera. I wasn't sure if she truly understood that there was only so far my influence could reach; largely this uphill battle was hers to fight alone. SHE had to let the people get to know HER and hope they loved the person they saw after she stepped from behind my shadow.

"You turned the phone off," Olivia said as she now stood next to me while Mellie had the finishing touches done on her hair and makeup.

I gave her a sideway glance before turning my attention back to Karen and Teddy. The moment I walked in the room and saw her, my throat became dry. She was breathtaking and beautiful. It had been a long time since I had seen her in a skirt and the provocative, yet professional look was extremely flattering to her figure. The palms of my hands itched and I kept them secure in my pockets.

"I've called several times and it always goes to voicemail….I wanted to explain about the other evening when you called….."

"Really, Olivia, it's not necessary. As I said, I just wanted to make sure you were safe and not in any danger. That was all." My voice was colder than it should have been. But, dammit, why couldn't she understand what her presence did to me? Her scent filled my nostrils and sent a rush of memories to my brain that I had to make a concerted effort to force out.

I wasn't needed for the photo shoot or interview. I started to walk away and say goodbye to Karen and Teddy but she grabbed my arm to hold me in place. I didn't resist the touch but I kept my face diverted, I couldn't meet her eye-to-eye. I didn't want her to read the despair in my eyes and see how I breakdown every time I see her.

"Can you meet me in the Rose Garden after this is over? I just want to talk to you…..please."

XXX

She wasn't pacing. She was standing still; staring at the line of rose bushes framing the pathways. It was a good look for her; she looked less agitated and stressful. She looked calm and serene.

"How did everything go?" I asked as I came in her vicinity; close enough so that we could hear each other speak yet far enough so that I could maintain my composure.

By the time the interview and photo shoot was over, the hour had grown late, so I had food brought in. I remained secluded in the Oval until one of the agents told me she was in the garden.

She turned to me and smiled. "It went well…We still have a way to go but it's a good start. Thank you for allowing it to happen. I will keep my promise to you and not bring the children into her campaign; we just need photos of her with them every now and then but Karen won't be interviewed."

"Thank you."

"Whose idea was it to have you give your speech in the garden next week?" she asked as her eyes twinkled with admiration. "It's a good one. It's been a long time since you spoke from the garden. You look calmer…..happier when you speak from the garden."

I probably had a goofy smile on my face but I couldn't help it; whenever I got her approval on a decision I made, it made me feel better than the king of the world. "I'm glad you approve."

Her tactic had worked; being in this spot with her was easing the tension that had been burdening on my shoulders all day.

"Just don't try what you did last time….I don't want to have to talk to Jeremy again," she jokingly warned.

I playfully defended myself, "That was one time Olivia…one time! And wearing a light colored suit in springtime is not such a horrible thing."

While she was still on staff at the White House, she suggested I give a speech from the garden. I convinced my personal assistant, Jeremy, to let me wear a beige suit with a pastel shirt. And he almost let me do it until Olivia walked in and chastised both of us. I never tried it again.

"It's horrible if you are the President of the United States."

"Jeremy blamed me and after that he never let me pick out any of my clothes."

We both laughed; the good memories had not been drowned out by the bad.

Then she was staring at me. And it was fierce and disturbing. I got uncomfortable under her scrutiny and bowed my head.

"You really have no idea how much I love you, do you?" she said. There was a sort of mysticism to her voice. It seemed like she meant to keep those words in her head; they weren't meant for public knowledge.

My head popped up and my eyes widened in surprise. Other people said those words everyday but to her, they were precious words; not to be wasted on just anyone. She only said it when she meant it and was moved enough to admit it.

The way she said it; the way she looked at me…it warmed me to know that I wasn't the only one lost in our relationship. I wasn't the only one head over heels in an undeniable love.

"But so much has happened and we can't seem to stop hurting one another. There was always so much working against us that we could never come up for air; we couldn't breathe; everything, your life, my life, the people around us, suffocated who we were to each other. And I…I could no longer see my way through. I couldn't see it anymore. I couldn't see the future of us….There was a constant loop in my head of misery and grief; always the same thing over and over again. And I couldn't stop it…I couldn't stop the hurt and the pain….The only answer I could find was to go away."

She took a deep breath before continuing, her eyes never leaving mine. "You scare me Fitz….you always have. The confidence you had about us, about life, about everything. The way you love me…how deep you love me… how you never gave up on me…on us…how you can always see us together…that scared me and I never knew how to reciprocate. I never knew how to return that love…I didn't know how to give you what you gave to me. The closer we came to becoming a reality the more I felt the walls closing in and I….I couldn't fix it. I could fix everyone and everything around me but I couldn't fix me… so I would run, each and every time. I only knew how to run."

It was a lot. She said more in those few minutes than I could recall her ever saying to me at one time about our relationship. No bitterness rose up within me at her words. I realized she was the missing piece. I could go to therapy for as long as I lived but until I knew how she really felt about me, about us, I would never find the peace I needed. Gradually moving past the resentment, I felt resigned. I actually understood her reasoning because I understood her. It didn't make her actions any less hurtful; I simply decided to make room for the comprehension of her choices.

She was staring at me; she braced herself for my anger; stilling herself against what she thought would be an argumentative reaction. She was trying to read my thoughts, which were, admittedly, all over the place. I started with the simplest of them. "I don't want to argue anymore. I don't want to hold on to anger or resentment. I just….I just want to move on from all of this. I'm sorry Olivia… I'm sorry for 6 years of allowing you to endure the horrible comments by Mellie and Cyrus; for letting you go through the shamefulness of our affair alone and for the part I played in preventing you from living your life. You should have been married, with children by now…I'm sorry for all of it. I truly am."

She took a step toward me but instinctively I took a step back. I couldn't let her in. Everything about me screamed against it.

I could read the pain from my rejection on her face but I made no move to comfort her. This wasn't a vengeful move; it came from the wisdom of not allowing either of us to succumb to a feeling, an act so natural that would only hurt us more to have done.

"You're right….I have hurt you in so many ways, Amanda Tanner, Mellie, Defiance, Jake, me outing you, Cyrus and we never talked about it. We just covered it over and added it to the layers of bullshit that remained between us….Any confidence you could have had in us I killed over and over again with unfulfilled promises….I want you to know that I'm sorry for it; more sorry than you could ever imagine but I get it…I understand and you don't have to worry about me calling you or sending the Secret Service for you or forcing you back into my life. I'm done."

She waited for me to say more but I was finished. I didn't think I needed to elaborate. "And that's your decision?...So I don't get a say in this?" She was slightly outraged that this was not going to be a topic up for discussion.

I sighed. I couldn't understand why she couldn't just let it all go. I was trying, why couldn't she try too? "No, I guess you don't….I'm making the decision for both of us. I should have made it a long time ago maybe…maybe so many things would have been different." _Maybe my son would still be alive_, I thought but I didn't say it aloud, although by her downcast expression I knew she could read between the lines.

I never blamed her for my son's death but we both knew that our relationship was like a catalyst that set so many things in motion and our inability to fight them off together, as a team, led to some catastrophic results.

"Would you be saying this if I had never gone away?"

I thought about her question and it sparked questions of my own. "Would you have come back if your father wasn't ill? Did you find the answers you needed by going away? Did it make everything better for you?"

"Fitz you don't understand.…I.…"

"Sir," I turned to find Daniel, a Secret Service agent standing a few feet behind me.

"Yes Daniel what is it?"

"Sir, it's Theodore, Teddy, he's been hurt…."

I was already running to get to him. I was vaguely aware that Olivia was running behind me but I couldn't focus on that at the moment.

XXX

"Please don't do this….I'm asking you not to do this." I wasn't above begging. The situation was critical for me.

While jumping in the play room, Teddy fell and hit his arm on the edge of some furniture; the deep gash required several stitches. Marta, of course, was horrified that such an injury happened on her watch but I continued to assure her that this was par for the course with children.

On the whole, Teddy took the injury very well. I held him, rocking him while the medicine took affect and allowed him to sleep.

It was only after Teddy quieted down that I could take in the scene around me. At the sight of Teddy in pain, Karen started crying. I didn't know if it was just because Olivia was there or if it just felt natural to her but Karen was leaning on Olivia for comfort and soon fell asleep on her shoulder. The scene was too much for me. So many days and nights I had prayed for something like this; to see Olivia interacting and taking care of my children; to watch them come to know and love her; to see her place by my side as part of my family. But it was too late and now it all seemed like an unfair persecution.

I didn't acknowledge her presence or speak until both Karen and Teddy were in their rooms for the evening. I stared at her for the longest time, watching her doe eyes plead with mine for something but I didn't know what. I still had no idea why she was still here. And all I could do was hang my head low walk away to the residence. She followed me to the sitting room.

And it was there that I finally found the words to beg her not to insert herself back into my life.

"I just don't know what you want from me Olivia," I felt defeated, like no matter where I turned, no matter what I did, it would never be right; nothing would ever feel right or complete. I sat down on the couch while she continued to stand over me.

"Nothing….Nothing. I don't want anything from you. I'm here because I care about you and I think…I think you deserve the truth from me," she took a seat across from me on the opposite couch, where we could look at each other eye-to-eye. And it didn't help. It didn't help having her here, in my personal space, looking as beautiful as she was, having the most mature, adult conversation that we had ever had. It didn't help because it happened months, maybe years too late.

"I wanted to come back Fitz….so many times I wanted to come back but I didn't know how. I didn't know what I would find when I came back. I was afraid to see you; afraid to know what you would think of me; ashamed for how I left you in the worse possible moment and without a word, a letter, a note. I just ran away from you…from us and I felt ashamed. It only took a day for me to realize what a coward I had been to run like that, without a trace, leaving everyone I cared about behind. And it only took a week for me to realize that it had been my father's plan all along; to get me away from DC and you, and I let him win. I felt stupid for allowing myself to be used like that, like I deserved the miserable situation I put myself in; living day and night without seeing you or talking to you; it was my punishment."

"Mine as well," I mumbled but I was certain that she heard me.

"I know it will take time for you to forgive me Fitz but I just needed you to know that what I did was never because I didn't love you or want that life with you, together. It was my fear that held me back and kept us apart."

It's hard to say who started crying first, all I knew was that silent tears were falling from both of our faces.

"It took me a while to agree to start seeing a therapist. So many things were happening and I thought if I drank enough I could numb the pain and whatever was left over I would just internalize it," recalling it aloud, I realized what a stupid idea it was but in the moment, I thought it was what would bring me the most immediate relief.

"I sent men searching for you all over the earth. And I wouldn't let up until I knew you were found. I was so afraid that Rowan or Maya had done something to you; something to keep you hidden from me or hurt you in some way. And I couldn't stop until I found you. I had to know what happened…..And then one day, they came in and handed me this large brown envelope and somehow I knew it contained pictures of you. My hands were shaking so bad that I could barely open it. But then I did and that was the moment I knew it was truly over. When I saw the picture of you and Jake on the beach on an island in the sun, happy, laughing, I knew it was over. You looked…..free and I don't know if I had ever seen you look like that."

I could recall that day as if I was still in the moment; it was still so real and potent; still so paralyzing.

"You were happy Olivia, whether it was for a moment, a day, a week or a month, you were still happier than I could make you. And it was that day, when Karen found me drunk and passed out in the Oval that I agreed to start seeing a therapist. Every day my mind would tell me to let you go but my heart was haunted by you. Everywhere I turned, everywhere I looked there was a memory, or a hint of you in something or someone and I couldn't shake you. I felt like I was going out of my mind….Even now...Do you know how hard it is for me to watch you come and go, knowing that we will never have what we once did? To not let my anger and resentment take over? And to watch you move on with your life while mine is still in shambles, in grief, mourning over betrayal, a lost son and a lost love? But I do it….every day I do it. I find a way to function; a reason to keep moving, to keep working, to focus on my children and it's taken me a long time to get here….So when I ask you not to do this to me, to us, you have to understand it's not because I'm being cruel or because I could never find a way to forgive you. It's because we don't know how to love without causing each other pain…..And there's been too many casualties already."

I'm not sure how long both of us sat there, lost in our own thoughts, wondering what words to say, which would help and which would heal. I just hoped that in our silence we could each find a way to make sense of the life we had now; find a way to accept a love that would never die and learn to live with the resignation of disappointed hopes from a love that was never allowed to live.

**(A/N: Thank you for reading this update. I have gotten some very, very interesting reviews on this story. I never knew it would spark so many varied reactions. But I seem to keep getting the reviews that I am condemning Olivia or hating on her. I didn't think that was the case but of course these stories make us feel different ways. I wanted to respond to a recent review but it was submitted as a Guest review so I couldn't respond directly to them. So I posted my response on Tumblr. You can check it out on my Tumblr page: belladamenoir. Unfortunately I cannot link it. I just want to remind everyone that this story is being told strictly from Fitz's point of view. So he may be right or he may be wrong but this is just my interpretation of how he feels. It is not my intention to offend anyone and I understand if you choose not to read any more of this story; I'm writing from the perspective of how I think Fitz could possibly react given this situation. Anyway, if anyone wishes to provide feedback it is more than welcome. Thanks again for your support. And FYI, OLITZ is my endgame and you will definitely see it before my story is finished.)**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Listen….I know that we are all in uncharted territory but we need to focus on what's really important and who I dance with at a State Dinner for the President of France is not one of the priorities of national interest."

It wasn't lost on me that the terms of my Presidency would be condemned heavily in the annuls of history. I publicly outted myself as a philanderer, an adulterer; my son died and I divorced my wife. History books would have a field day dissecting and analyzing my tumultuous terms; no doubt I would come out on the losing end. Still, I appreciated the staff I had that continued to brave these murky waters in my final years.

Abby blinked rather rapidly; it was almost like an eye-twitch. She knew this conversation was testing my patience and my cooperation, at least in this matter, would not be easily won. "But Sir, what we are trying to tell you is…..You are single and attractive…and your period of mourning is about to expire. WE, of course, respect your grieving period, but by everyone else's standard the time is pretty much up. One year is the max. And let's not forget that you're…well you're a man…."

"Yes Abby, last time I checked I am a man," I deliberately spelled out.

"I…I just meant that everyone knows that men can't go to long without…..well without…..companionship. Women can close up shop or franchise their own nunnery but men…not so much."

Before Abby could offend me even more, Cyrus wisely cut her off. "What Abby is TRYING to say Sir, is that this is a very sensitive time and we have to be mindful of how the public perceives you. The press from the last White House event described you as appearing what was it?... Cold, aloof, frozen, stiff, unhappy, unapproachable, unfriendly, uninviting…."

"And your solution to this is to have me dance with five different women?" I almost laughed, it was so unbelievable.

"Six," Abby corrected which earned her a harsh look from me, effectively silencing her argument.

"Well Sir it's actually four because one is for the former first lady and that's more with keeping tradition so it doesn't really count," Cyrus explained tactfully.

"And does anyone want to tell me why I'm dancing with Senator Sheila Covington? Have I ever met the woman?"

There was hesitation which meant I would not like the answer. Shifting in my chair, my sigh of irritation could not have been any louder.

Abby took a deep breath and did this thing where she rushed out a monologue of information hoping I would accept it simply because she said it fast. "Sheila Covington is a new State Senator. She's beautiful, charming, a war widow, no children, very accomplished, extremely well-spoken and a full supporter of your Presidency. You should hear her go on and on about your accomplishments. And I have it on good authority that she thinks you're really **HOT**! Sir it's not enough that you need to dance with these women; you need to be seen having a **GOOD TIME**. People need to see you as a nice guy, who can smile; someone who doesn't have this constant melancholy Edgar Allen Poe spirit around him all the time. Sheila discreetly asked to be put on the list and I accepted…the White House accepted. So, you know, there's no going back now."

Abby's smile was one of pride; I hadn't interrupted her argument and given her free reign to speak, which was a rarity. She was hopeful. I knew her intentions were good but this was not my plan when I divorced Mellie. I had hoped to continue the final years of my Presidency focused on the job and my family, that's it, that was all.

This was a new feeling for me. Mellie and I had married so young and our dating, our marriage, the timing of our children – everything had been calculated, scheduled to enhance a political persona and garnish the support of constituents. My life had always been controlled, planned and manipulated by others and I had given them free reign to do so. In my entire life, the only two things I could recall that I had done purely for me and no one else were: Fall in love with Olivia Pope and divorce Mellie Grant.

I realized I didn't know how to date women just to get to know them. I didn't know the rules of etiquette. I didn't know if I would be good at it or horribly bad. I didn't know if I had the energy to invest in a woman; my life was so full, I didn't see how my attention could be divided yet again. I carried so much emotional baggage with me that to start over in my life almost seemed ludicrous. At some point you have to except that your life is what it is, right? Besides how exactly does the President of the United States date women? What are the logistics of it? What were the rules?

XXX

"Are you bringing Karen with you to the dinner?" Cyrus asked sometime later when we were alone.

"No….she has debate prep and I don't want to take her away from that. So, I'm going alone."

"Mellie has asked for an extra spot for Olivia and…..Jake."

"No problem….I pretty much expected that Mellie would want Olivia in attendance." I know I surprised Cyrus by my easy, casual response but I had expected Mellie to want Olivia in attendance; she was still new at navigating her way through the political scene as a single woman and appreciated Olivia's counsel and support. And if Olivia was coming, then likely Jake would be in attendance as well. I had already resolved my mind to the idea.

The look on Cyrus' face told me that there was something else; another concern yet to be addressed. "Cyrus…how are you? Are you going to be okay with this? Have you and Olivia talked?"

We only talked about Jake murdering James one time and one time only. Cyrus sought comfort in the idea that James had been sacrificed for the good of the country, the republic and my Presidency. But it was a hollow explanation, lacking a solid foundation of convincing truth. I never challenged it; if it was the idea he needed to hold on to in order to get pass the grief, then I could not begrudge him the consolation.

I noticed that his relationship with Olivia remained distant after she returned but I didn't intervene. Their relationship was unique and whatever remedy was required; they would have to work it out for themselves.

"I'm a monster. I have done some evil things in my life. And you will never see me apologize for it. I know why I did it and I feel no regrets about it. But James….how I treated James….that will always be my life's regret. I didn't love him more, not the way I should have. So no Olivia and I haven't talked….and we never will. It's her choice. What's done is done, I probably deserved it in some round about karma, universal plot to make me pay for my sins….It was done to save the republic and I have to accept that."

"Do you?"

I could see him struggling with himself; trying to find a way to resignation, simultaneously fighting off the anger and resentment. Cyrus and I were in very similar situations. We both missed Olivia; the 'old' Olivia. And we could sit around and blame Jake, Rowan, ourselves or others for our heartache or we could choose to move forward and try to navigate our way through the madness.

He didn't respond and I continued, "Cyrus…if anyone understands what you're going through it's me. And whatever it is you are feeling towards Olivia, it won't help you to keep it in and pretend it's not there; talk to her about it, let her tell you her side. It may or may not make you feel better but at least you will know."

XXX

"Mr. President, her…."

"Fitz, please," it was the third time I corrected her during the course of our conversation. It was a difficult thing, separating the man from the office; Fitz Grant from President of the United States. And sitting in the Oval office was not helping. "I'll tell you what….let's go for a walk."

It was a beautiful day out and I could already sense that Dr. Michelle Velasquez was releasing the nervous anxiety that unconsciously came when you stepped into the Oval.

"Well Fitz…" she began deliberately, prompting us both to smile, "Karen, as you know is a great kid, but as with many children who have experienced some type of trauma they tend to take too much upon themselves; unnecessary burdens and Karen is no exception. She worries constantly about Teddy, about her mother and about you. And, of course, she misses her older brother terribly. May I ask were there additional details regarding your son's death that may be a little….um, different from the official statement?"

I couldn't contain my surprise. "Why do you ask?"

"Well she has been doing some…..online research. A sort of investigation of her own, trying to understand what killed her brother. In her words, everything seems so random and doesn't make any sense. She has doubts that she was told the full story….I don't want to be the voice of doom and gloom but I just wanted to let you know because depending on what she finds, this could take her down a road of suspicion and darkness that could potentially set her back in her recovery."

I went silent at this disclosure. Of course, there was a great deal Karen, Mellie and the world in general did not know about my son's death and in the interest of national security it had to remain that way.

I dodged her inquiry and re-directed the conversation. "Do you think she accepts her brother's death?"

If Michelle recognized my deflection, she didn't let on. The conversation continued easily. "Oh yes, I do…it's the aftermath that she has difficulty adjusting and to be honest Sir….um Fitz, it is a lot to adjust to at one time. The horrible death and then your divorce; those types of life altering events can have devastating effects on people, especially children who have more difficulty reconciling the changes in their minds...Thankfully, Karen is wiser than her years but she is still just a child and we need to remember that."

We continued walking in silence while I processed the information she provided. I wondered if that was a skill all therapists possessed – the ability to know when to speak and when to keep silent and allow others to absorb their words.

After thanking her for the information, I ventured, "By the way, if you care to attend the state dinner next week I think I can strong-arm Cyrus into getting you one or two tickets."

I hadn't meant anything by the suggestion; I thought it was a simple, kind gesture; a way to show my appreciation for her help with Karen. But the way she was now looking at me made me wonder if she thought I was flirting with her. I was about to clarify my offer when she smiled and said, "Yes I would love to go and only one ticket please."

XXX

"Am I imagining all the dirty looks I'm receiving right now?"

"You mean people actually care who I dance with? No that couldn't possibly be true," I responded smiling down at her. Her eyes were a beautiful hazel color with little flecks of gray mixed in.

"Oh really? Is it because you are just an average single man and not the most eligible bachelor the world who also happens to be the Leader of the Free World?" she teased in return. She had a great sense of humor and each of our conversations, business or pleasure, seemed to fall into this comfortable pattern of give and take. It was new for me and it was refreshing. I found myself enjoying it, probably more than I should have. And I would be lying to myself if I didn't admit that she felt good in my arms.

I could hear camera shutters going off photographing me as I laughed at her comment. I knew I would pay for this later. The same people who criticized me for being 'aloof, cold and distant' would now label me as the 'Playboy President'. No matter what I did, I was in a loose-loose situation.

"I'm really out of my element here and I just hope I don't fall flat on my face."

Almost unconsciously, my grip on her waist tightened, "Don't worry Michelle, I've got you."

_Stupid._ I don't know what I was thinking. Why did I say that? Why had my voice deepened when I said it? Once again my mouth had run away from me before my mind could catch up. I averted my eyes to a far spot of the room, hoping the comment would not create added tension between us.

"Thank you Mr. President," she responded kindly. Her eyes never moved away from my face. She was searching through me, trying to discover or understand something. I reminded myself that she was a therapist; she studied human emotions, the reasons why we do things. No matter what her intentions, likely, I couldn't handle another skilled professional scrutinizing my psyche.

Fully aware that any relationship between us would be inappropriate and a threat to Karen's treatment, I felt the sudden urge to get far away from her. I had no idea what was going on between us. Thankfully the music had ended and I was able to take her back to her seat before I had to think about it anymore.

XXX

"I must say, I am amazed. My divorce was a nightmare. I still hate that woman and I hate the checks I write to her every month."

Senator Boyle was an old, dirty bastard who, although he walked with a cane, still likely chased women around his desk. I wanted to assume that he was talking about his fourth and final marriage but I really couldn't be certain.

At times, Mellie could be an even better politician than I was. She knew when to joke, when to interject, when to counter and when to give in. And this, like most comments about our marriage and divorce, she let roll off her in good humor.

"Well I'm the best ex-wife this man will ever have," Mellie joked as she grazed my arm.

"Hopefully the only one," I added firmly with a smile.

The Senator continued to laugh good-naturedly. "Mellie, my dear, there's some talk of you leaving your law practice and taking up the political reigns. Is that true?"

"Well….you know I've always been interested in politics. Helping Fitzgerald run this country was one of the best things about our marriage…."

I hoped no one saw me roll my eyes. Mellie's delusions knew no bounds.

"And I want to continue to help my country in the best possible way. I have some people helping me figure out the best way to do it. You know her, right, Olivia Pope?...Oh there she is!"

I had no idea whether Olivia and Jake's sudden appearance in our line of sight was coincidence or by design. Either way, I trained my eyes to focus on something other than how amazingly gorgeous Olivia Pope looked this evening.

Mellie eagerly called for them to come and join the conversation. The pleasant look on my face was stuck like glue and made the greetings and handshakes appear welcoming and warm. From my peripheral view, I could feel Jake's eyes burning a hole through my skin. His fascination with me was bordering on insanity. I was not a factor in his life and all our ties, forced and voluntary, had been completely severed.

"Yes Ms. Pope, I sent a friend of mine by your offices several months ago. Imagine my surprise when she reported back that your business was closed. Something about you going on vacation? An unheard of concept in some circles," he joked.

Olivia smiled as she continued to nurse her glass of champagne.

Jake took advantage of the opportunity and spoke up. "Yes, she deserved a vacation. We both needed that time away; sun and sand, pretty much paradise."

"Well you look great, my dear. The vacation obviously suited you well."

"I think so too. She looks great right?" Jake continued in his praise. And other than the furtive glances Olivia cast in my direction, she continued to smile through the conversation.

When the conversation drifted into further discussions of Mellie's political endeavors, I saw my exit. "If you all will excuse me, I have someone else I need to speak to." I got another weird feeling from Jake; a foreboding feeling that something bad was looming but I shook it off. If I kept telling myself that her life was none of my business, maybe one day I would actually believe it.

XXX

"Are you alright?"

I froze. Her waiting in the hallway for me as I exited a meeting room was the very last thing I expected. And it wasn't a welcome surprise.

"Yes…..I'm fine. Are you having a good time? What's wrong? Where's Jake?"

She smiled and moved a stray hair behind her ear. I'd only seen her do that a few times before. It was adorable, endearing and a clear tell of her nervousness. "Well that's a lot of questions. Which one do you want me to answer first?"

I should have viewed her response as an olive branch, an offer to remedy the breach between us but, selfish as it was, I didn't want it. My life only worked if I kept her at a distance; if our life circles only converged when it was absolutely necessary. As long as I knew she was safe and happy, I could try to move on. I didn't want the polite conversations filled with details that friends share. We weren't friends; I lost my best friend almost a year ago and nothing could bring that back.

"None….Have a good evening Olivia."

As I moved past her, she forcefully grabbed my arm. The Secret Service agents moved to intervene but it didn't make Olivia back off; she gripped my arm tighter, daring me to break free from her hold.

My eyes remained on her while my voice addressed the agents, still poised to act. "It's alright gentlemen. Ms. Pope and I were just having a conversation."

I let her lead me into a private room.

XXX

"How many times are we going to have this same conversation?!"

"Until I don't feel this hole in my gut every time I see you. Until I stop feeling guilty for moving on with my life. Until I stop feeling like the bad guy for waiting around for a married man who just lost his son, who was killed by my father! Until I don't feel like I broke your heart!"

My anger was on an even keel with hers. "I'm not doing any of this to you! That's your own guilt eating away at you Olivia. It's not me. I have no part in it. Gotdamn woman, I don't know what the hell you want from me! I have apologized to you over and over again. I have not interfered in your life. I don't have a hold over you Olivia, I've let it go!"

Our voices were escalating higher and higher but neither of us cared anymore. The agents standing guard would get an earful, but it couldn't be helped.

"Really?! So you're pretending now again! Did you get that from Mellie?! You're telling me you don't feel it?"

"Feel what? What the fuck are you talking about?!"

She gasped at my outrage but quickly recovered. "Don't fuck with me Fitz!….You know exactly what I mean."

I did know what she meant but was loathe to admit it. Admit a part of me still yearned for her, dreamed about her and desperately wished to have her in my life; that was pitiful. I was pitiful and disappointed in myself for still holding on to the fantasy.

"I don't need to have this conversation with you." I moved towards the door to leave her presence before I said something guaranteed to set me back emotionally.

"So who's running now?" She taunted.

I whirled back around to face her, anger reignited. "Fuck you Olivia…No matter what happened between us, no matter what went down, I never cut out on you. I never ran. I never gave up. I was willing to suffer through it all. I was willing to make it all happen, give up everything. And never in my wildest dreams would I even consider leaving you like that because you were my best friend. The person I trusted above all, through the good and bad times."

"Oh you can say that easily can you? You're the fucking President of the United States; you have an army of people waiting in the wings to protect you. But who protects me, Fitz? I do, I have to. I can't be another black woman who's the whore of a powerful white man…

"It's never been about that…."

"It doesn't matter Fitz. It doesn't matter how you think about me, it matters how **I** think about me. I can't love you and hate myself at the same time. I can't do it. I can't look your wife in the face and keep my self-respect and dignity enough to plan out a life with you. You don't have to run, you don't have to leave, this entire office protects you….your fucking gender protects you. No matter how we planned, or what we did, I would be the one hated. I would be the black woman who broke up a happy white man's home. I would be the one who couldn't lift my head for the shame of it; I would be the one unable to show my face, unable to work, unable to live. It would be all my fault because that's the way the world works and you would be a fool not to see it."

I was deflated by her statements. There was so much painful truth in what she said and didn't say. Nothing about us had been fair. From our first meeting, nothing had been fair – me trapped in a loveless marriage running for President while secretly in love with my campaign fixer; it was a cruel twist of fate.

"Then why keep prolonging it Olivia. Why keep doing this?"

"Because the feeling won't go away…..I worry about you day and night. I wonder what you're doing each day, how you're feeling, who's making you laugh, is someone making you laugh, is someone making you cry, are you eating, are you staying away from the Scotch and the Vodka, especially the Vodka. I can't stop my mind from worrying if you are okay. It won't ever stop. I can't make it turn off."

After a moment of silence, I admitted with a defeated sigh, "I feel it too and I don't know how to turn it off. Months and months of therapy, and my heart still can't heal."

We stared at each other, afraid of what the admission meant, afraid of where to go from here. Neither of us wanted to speak first, go out on a limb with more dreams, plans and goals that may or may not be reciprocated.

It didn't matter; she was still with Jake and despite what she felt for me, the normality of that relationship, seemed to be where her happiness lie. The closer we got to each other, the more the world around us seemed to crumble into ruins.

"You've made a choice Olivia, you should go back to Jake. You've been gone for too long and he will start to worry."

XXX

It was almost 3AM when I finally left the security briefing. I could barely keep my eyes opened. I walked a trance, almost like a mummy, through my nightly routine; check on Teddy and Karen, plant a kiss on their sleeping faces, get hot shower, let the news cycle lull me to sleep.

I pulled back the covers ready to let my body drown in the cold sheets when I heard the loud knocking at the residence door. It was loud and persistent.

Worried that the noise would wake the children, I rushed to the door to find Cyrus, whom I left not 45 minutes ago and I thought had gone home to his own sleeping daughter.

"What is it Cyrus?...I thought we agreed everything else could wait until tomorrow." I asked with a growling yawn to follow.

"We did Sir but….."

Cyrus rarely looked this indecisive. I could tell he wanted to tell me something but it may have gone against his better judgment to involve me. As he had already disturbed whatever sleep I thought I might get, I figured – good, bad or indifferent – he may as well spit it out now.

"Just tell me Cyrus."

"It's Liv…..She's in the hospital."

"What!" I felt like cold water had just been splashed on my face. My eyes were wide in surprise and my heart was racing; fear engulfing me as I imagined all the horrible things that could have happened to her.

"She's going to be alright…Abby just thought….I just thought you might want to know or want to go see her," his voice was hesitant. Cyrus' first-hand knowledge of my relationship with Olivia left him wary of any conversation on the matter; he had learned to tread lightly when that topic was brought up.

I was already moving to put on some clothes and leaving a message for the Marta and Karen that I had to leave and would call later. "What the hell happened, Cyrus?" I yelled from my bedroom as I slipped on my shoes anxious to get out the door.

All I heard back was silence until I put on my jacket and was walking with him out the door. "Sir….I'm afraid she was assaulted."

XXX

It was déjà vu.

I could remember walking into the hospital knowing she was there; knowing she had been hurt by someone or something; knowing that our relationship did not give me the right to intrude on her privacy and yet I couldn't hold back, I had to know that she was alright. The only thing missing from the waiting room was Jake. The floor had been cleared; no one was there except Abby, David Rosen, the guy I knew as Huck and a woman who I believed was another associate from Olivia's firm.

They all stood when they saw me but Abby was the one who approached me.

"What is going on Abby? Cyrus only said she was assaulted…what happened? And where the hell is Jake? Did someone call him?"

"Mr. President….Fitz," Abby spoke softly, unusual for her but her tear-stained face and bloodshot eyes told me that she too had initially struggled to keep her composure. "Can we talk in private first?"

I couldn't respond; I could only follow her to a corner of the waiting room that granted us a measure of privacy. I assumed what she was about to tell me she hadn't told everyone.

"Do you remember our conversation about three weeks ago…."

I didn't have the patience for a memory game. "Abby we have a lot of conversations how am I supposed to remember….and what does this have to do with….." And then it hit me, like a ton of brinks landing on my head and it nearly knocked the wind out of me and my eyes began to water because I knew this was my fault; I knew that I had opened the door to this and consequently the horror of my decisions were still rippling through everyone's lives. "Tell me…."

"We were supposed to have dinner together and she cancelled but she didn't sound right, so I called and called all night with no answer. And then I went over there and that's when I saw him," Abby closed her eyes at the memory of seeing her friend in such a vulnerable, weakened condition, fighting for her life from a monster.

All I could do was listen as my stomach sunk deeper and deeper, dreading the next words she would say. "She had told him she didn't want to see him anymore. That it was over and she was done pretending they could be anything other than friends. He didn't take it well but she thought he would go away. He came to her apartment and kicked the door down. He attacked her."

"Where is he now?" My hands were trembling. I wanted them to be wrapped around his neck. I wanted to watch the life drain from his body; I wanted to feel him go limp knowing his existence had faded away and his face would no longer be seen.

"The police arrested him. I had my gun with me; I called the police and held him until the police came…This…this is my fault," she cried.

"What…why? I don't understand."

"I had seen him lay hands on Olivia before. I had seen him choke her; throw her against the wall when she took down B6-13. He was so angry and…and he could have killed her if he wanted to…with his bare hands. And I stood there paralyzed; I didn't say anything. I didn't do anything. None of us….none of her gladiators, the ones who were supposed to protect her…none of us said a thing about it. We just let it happen and we just let him continue to be in her life…We didn't say a word and now look what he's done," she was sobbing dreadfully and I took her into my arms trying to comfort her. Everything she said was almost unbelievable; the Olivia I knew would never allow a man to treat her like that; the Olivia I knew would never leave without a trace with a man like that. None of it made any sense to me.

When she finally calmed down and stepped out of my embrace. She straightened up and wiped her tears. Her voice was direct as if she was reading off a briefing. "She has a bandage on her forehead; there was a deep cut and they had to put in stitches; her lip is busted and she has several bruised ribs….She didn't want me to call you…She didn't want you to see her like that but I knew she needed you…so I called you anyway…Don't make me regret calling you Mr. President!" And with that Abby had fully composed herself and walked away.

XXX

I thought she was sleeping. I closed the door as softly as I could behind me and stood there watching her. This was the second time I had seen her in the hospital this way and each time it broke my heart. Seeing her bruised, injured, hurt like this created an overwhelming feeling of protection within me; like I needed to keep her safe with me; like with me was the only place she would be safe. It was a foolish thought and I had to remember that I was here as a friend only.

She must have felt me watching her because she stirred; her face contorted in pain as she held her ribs and tried to roll over to a more comfortable position.

"Here let me help you," I offered and immediately came to her side.

She froze as she just noticed my presence. "Um…no…that's okay I can do it….I'm fine."

"It would make me feel better if I could help you."

Her body relaxed and her eyes softened. Her head gave a short nod. She was allowing me to help her. And that was a major feat. She didn't like feeling weak; she didn't like needing someone to help her like this.

I eased her small, light body into my arms and helped her roll over to her other side. It was the very first time I held her in almost a year. I tried to ignore the feeling of contentment that it created, like the final piece of the puzzle in my heart had been put in place.

As soon as she was situated, I took several steps back. "Are you thirsty? Would you like some water?" Even without her response, I was already walking to the side table to pour her a cup. I felt like I had to keep busy or I would break down; the guilt I felt for bringing Jake into her life was like a heavy boulder crushing my chest making it hard for me to breathe.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm here because you're here….I'm here to make sure you are OK…Someone I care about is in the hospital, this is where I'm supposed to be."

"You didn't have to come….I specifically told Abby not to call you."

"Yeah well….I would've fired her if she hadn't told me."

She smiled, her muscles pained from the gesture. "You would not."

I smiled back. "No, I would not but she still knew that she should call me….Seems like we've been in this position before."

Her lip trembled and she looked away. I regretted the statement; there weren't any pleasant memories from it. "I don't like anyone feeling sorry for me or taking the blame for what happened to me. It's no one's fault but my own….I did this, only me."

I knew she expected me to argue with her but I tried a different tactic. "Well, do you mind sharing some of the blame because I believe I'm the asshole that had him watching you in the first place?" the levity in my voice and the smirk on my face told her that I only wanted to lighten the mood. Serious conversations would no doubt come later.

"Yeah you were the asshole that did that," she agreed with a slight smile, what she could muster with a bruised lip. It reminded me that Jake had no doubt slapped her and the anger was rising like bile.

I took off my jacket and brought a chair up to sit next to her bed. I wasn't going anywhere.

"What are you doing?" she asked suspiciously.

"I'm staying with my friend in the hospital. And when my friend is ready to talk, we will talk."

We fell into the silence of watching the news and I thought perhaps the medication had taken over and helped her fall asleep until a drowsy voice spoke, "One of the first lessons my father taught me after my mother supposedly died was that, Love is a fools emotion; it creates a weakness that allows others to take advantage of you, use you to their own means, manipulate you. And I had to be better than that. I had to be stronger; not allow my emotions to rule me. For most of my life I believed him, I kept people at a distance…I learned how to care for people superficially, invading their lives but never allowing them to share my own. I knew when men only wanted my body or when they only wanted me as a prized possession. I knew how to use people who used me. I didn't need love, I thought my life was fine without it; I didn't need it to make me feel happy, whole or complete….Until the day I met you."

**(A/N: Hello everyone. So I'm easing my way back into my fanfic. I'm trying hard not to abandon what I've written. So I appreciate your kind consideration and patience. I never knew the direction of the show would take so much out of me and to be honest I have diverted my interest to another show entirely. I needed to do so to keep my sanity. And it has worked. The only draw back is, I'm so wrapped up in the other show/book (Outlander, of course), that I lost interest in fanfic entirely. But it's slowly coming back. So thank you all for the kind messages of support. I greatly appreciate it.)**


	6. Chapter 6

**(A/N: Just a reminder, this story is told entirely from Fitz's point of view. Thanks for reading.)**

**Chapter 6**

She had become withdrawn again; her somber mood had returned. And she refused to eat anything.

To allow her and Cyrus some private time, I had gone back to the White House to shower, change and get some work done.

Now that I returned, I could not tell if it was the conversation with Cyrus or the entirety of the situation that accounted for her current silence but I knew for certain that she could not be forced to talk about anything she was not ready to discuss.

"You remember that time we got snowed in at the hotel…on the trail in Georgia." It was a safe memory; before anything serious had happened between us; back to a time when we were still getting to know each other as friends, morality creating the barrier that kept our underlying feelings at bay.

She glanced at me before responding but I saw the flicker in her eye. It was a pleasant memory for her as well. "You mean that time when you refused to believe that you had the flu although you were flushed with fever and your nose was redder than Rudolph."

I laughed at that; more pleased that she was willing to take the stroll down memory lane with me. She took over the story and I hoped it served the purpose of taking her mind off her troubles, at least for the moment.

"And you refused to stay in your room, no matter how contagious you could have been. Then you blackmailed me into sneaking off with you in the middle of the night to that run-down movie theater across from the hotel. I still don't know how I fell for that."

She was genuinely smiling now and it felt good to see her happy.

"Hey at least I let you pick the movie…It was some chick flick from what I recall."

"Don't give me that, you enjoyed it almost as much as I did."

"Maybe," I reluctantly conceded. "Admit it though, it felt good to get away from it all for few hours didn't it?"

I saw her smile widen and knew she felt the same as I did. Even back then, we connected in such an unusually profound way; it was almost as if we already knew each other before we knew each other.

"It was normal," she finally said. After a brief pause, she continued, "Do you ever wish for a different life, something more…normal?"

I stretched my legs out and sighed. "More than I probably should…and you?"

"I….I don't know. I don't think I know what normal feels like. I used to think the last time my life was normal was when my mother was alive but turns out, that life wasn't normal either….I've tried to create a normal life but it just feels…..forced and unnatural. I feel like…I'm trying too hard; it makes me uncomfortable," she admitted.

I quickly turned my head so she wouldn't see the look of surprise in my expression. It was almost as if she was confiding in me like she did back when we were on the trail. The frequent late night talks when we answered each other's questions openly and honestly; when we could reveal our feelings without the fear of hurting one another. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

"Well…maybe it's true what they say. Maybe normal is overrated."

We didn't say much else and when the silence came it was comfortable, not tense. I could feel the mood in the room had significantly lifted. I inwardly smiled when in my peripheral view, I could see her lifting the food tray to eat a little. Maybe recalling the past wasn't such a horrible thing.

XXX

"You know what tomorrow is, don't you?" I asked as I gathered my belongings. She was being released today. Abby was on her way to pick her up and take her to her home. Olivia protested greatly, but in the end Abby's threats of bodily harm won her the argument.

The nurse had brought in some clothes for her to change into and I sat them on the bed for her.

"Of course I do…I'm just surprised you do – every single year."

She never celebrated her birthday. She didn't like remembering it and she loathed anyone giving her that kind of attention. I never got the full story on why but I respected her wishes as long as she respected my decision not to ever forget. Despite everything, she was such a special person that I thought it was important to remember the day that brought her into this world.

"Maybe one day you'll actually let me throw a party for you," I ventured lightly.

"Mmm….I doubt that. It's….it's not really necessary. What you do is enough," she admitted shyly. She barely looked at me and I wondered if she thought the statement was too bold of her to make. Or whether she didn't want me to truly know that she actually hoped I remembered her every year on that special day; some kind of assurance that she was never really far from my thoughts.

I usually mailed the gifts to her home; anonymously of course but she always knew who they came from.

It wasn't technically her birthday but I couldn't resist the urge.

I reached in my pocket and handed her a box. She hesitated to reach for it; almost as if she was afraid to grasp on to it. She gave me a look of uncertainty, as if she wanted to give me the final opportunity to take it back. I continued to hold it out to her and she eventually took it.

I waited patiently for her to open it. This was something I was never allowed to do. I got messages of appreciation and "thank you's" but I could never see her face when she opened the gifts. It was a priceless moment for me.

"Fitz it's beautiful," she whispered as her slender fingers traced over the diamond pendant of a ballerina girl. She wanted to be a ballerina when she was younger – the first black ballerina to perform Swan Lake at the Eisenhower Theater in The Kennedy Center.

I could see her blinking away tears. Maybe she was surprised that I remembered her childhood dream. Maybe she was finally realizing that I remembered virtually everything about her. I really couldn't tell and it really didn't matter.

"Happy Birthday Olivia," I said before kissing her forehead and leaving her to get dress in private.

XXX

I was so frustrated that I wanted to throw something across the room. I was convinced that he was a bad omen, cast over my life to punish me in every way possible.

"You could choose not to do it," Cyrus offered. It was a meaningless offer.

"And what?….Allow him to take this to trial, drag it out, just so that he can have the pleasure of humiliating her in front of a court of law? I can't do that."

"Well…and there's the possibility that he may decide to reveal your affair with Liv in the course of his testimony. It's just a matter of whether you think his threat is credible. Do you believe him?"

I really didn't know what to believe anymore. "Would he hurt her like that just to get back at me for whatever reason? I have no idea…..I think the bigger question is whether I can take the chance."

There was a short list of people that I truly hated; like with everything I had. If they were dying on the street from getting run over by a bus, I would find a way to ignore them, let them suffer and cross to the other side. Jake was at the very top of that list.

It had become clear to me that with his dying breath Jake would always find a way to challenge me. It didn't matter that Olivia ran away with him; broke off her ties to me completely; it would never be enough. He would always seek to find yet another way to inflict pain upon me.

The threat was credible. I knew he would do it. Jake had been turned over to the JAG and according to his lawyer he would not accept the plea unless he was first given an audience before the President, alone. If not he would take the matter to trial and get his day in court to expose everything for public consumption. It was an open-ended, ominous statement; left for them to interpret what he meant. His lawyer thought it a ridiculous request but when pressed he presented it anyway; assuming his client was crazy and his request would be immediately denied.

He was half right.

I had already been raked over the coals on numerous occasions; I no longer feared public crucification. They had already done their worse to me – time and time again. But her. I knew she was just trying to get her life back and the rebirth of speculation and innuendos had the potential to damage her irreparably. And I had no qualms that Jake would produce whatever evidence needed to make his statements irrefutable.

"Alright…set it up and I'll go." I finally agreed. And that was the easy part. Resisting the urge to strangle the man with my bare hands would be the hardest part.

XXX

"Mr. President," Jake said as he smiled knowingly when I walked in the room. He knew I would come. He knew I would do anything for her.

"I would stand but they have me chained to this chair. It's overkill, clearly, especially for a simple assault charge. I've told them that we're old friends but they still think I'm a security threat to you."

Despite our present circumstances, he had the upper hand and we both knew it. He had the ability to hurt me deeper than almost anyone could.

It occurred to me, that, without me asking, the cameras and recordings in the room would be turned off, while I was present. I didn't know if that was more for his benefit or mine. However, I was certain that no witnesses gave him all the license he needed to talk about anything and everything.

"Does she know you're here?"

"I have no idea. I haven't seen or talked to her." It was the truth. Since she was discharged from the hospital I had not attempted any contact with her. We had left things on a good note, I didn't want to ruin it; it was best that we left things as they lay.

He stared at me. I assumed he was trying to assess whether I told the truth and when he finally believed me he smiled in that creepy way of his, reminding me that he was not a mentally stable man.

"I'm happy you came, Mr. President, although I should probably tell you that whether you came or not, this would have never gone to trial. She's not going to press charges. In fact, I bet right now that red head friend of hers, Abby, is trying to convince her to pursue it and Olivia keeps refusing."

I blinked. I wish I could tell him he was lying and that even if he accepted the plea Olivia would make sure that he was ran out of DC, with a minimum of several states as a buffer between them. But I could not. Because truthfully I didn't know this Olivia, _his_ Olivia.

"In fact, I will take it one step further. I bet Olivia is working her magic to get me out of here. She would rather die than see me locked up like this."

He was so snide and arrogant; so confident in himself and the hold he had over her and it was nauseating to see firsthand.

So many times I wanted him taken out; the order to eliminate him resting on my lips just waiting to be given. And now, I'm glad I resisted the urge. It was highly possible that, no matter the justification, she would have hated me for harming him. Did her love for him run that deep? Maybe in my own conceit I had excused their relationship as a fraction of what ours was; his only saving grace being that he was free, available, while I was tied to a dead marriage. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe in the desire to make myself feel better, I had mistakenly diminished his role and importance to her.

"So why am I here?" I finally asked. I had hoped this meeting would last ten minutes at most. But Jake was long-winded; I think he enjoyed hearing himself speak in long irritating monologues. He especially reveled in it when it was clear that he could humiliate his opponent – me.

"You're here because I think you deserve to know the truth. She may never tell you but the Olivia you knew is gone. She's a different person now…It's your own fault really. The moment you rejected her, you changed her. She'll never go back to being your "Livvy"," he mocked.

With the air of superiority of a person who had the power to cast the final gauntlet, he began, "I can tell you don't really believe me…Well let me paint you a picture. You remember when she was in the hospital and I told you I interrupted an intruder or some shit like that. It was a lie. The truth was, we had just had sex. She got up in the middle of the night and discovered the cameras I had all over her apartment. She got hysterical and wanted to leave; I couldn't let her do that and we struggled and whether I pushed her or she fell - whichever way you want to look at it - she ended up in the hospital with a concussion…Surprisingly though, all I had to do was tell her to lie for me and she did it. I couldn't believe it at the time but she did. She never told you the truth." His smile was sadistic as he remembered the incident. He didn't feel sorry for it in the least. I didn't know if his pleasure came more from hurting and subsequently controlling her or fooling me.

"By the way, knowing that sex tape ultimately ended up in your hands was the very best!...I didn't even have to try for that one. It all fell into place. And even after that, she stayed with me; let me stay in her apartment, sleep in her bed," he leaned closer over the table as if this was the biggest reveal of all. "Did you know I choked her once? Right in the middle of OPA, in front of everyone and guess what, she never got upset about it….As a matter of fact, she told me that she still felt something for me. She still wanted me. Between you and me, I think she likes being manhandled. You know some women are like that. It's a turn on for them."

My eyes were crossing in anger as I listened to him recount his relationship with Olivia. How could she love this person? Abby had already disclosed the incident to me but to hear him relay it; that he could have killed her with the slightest pressure and it hadn't affected her feelings toward him, left me baffled.

"You know when I really thought I lost her?...When I had to kill James, the father of her, of YOUR goddaughter. I had to threaten her life to make her stop digging into that. But that didn't seem to bother her either…not too much at least. I seriously think she gets off on my "dangerous" side. I remember one night I even threatened to kick her door down. But she didn't mind. I just told her that I needed her to "save me" so we could "stand in the sun". She likes that. She likes knowing that she's "saving" someone; that they need her like that. I think it's the only time she feels like she's worth anything. And it worked, because she still ran away with me," he laughed out loud, in my face. And the sting was effective, I felt like an even bigger fool than I ever had before.

My reasoning mind tried to convince me that Jake treated her better than I ever could; he cherished her more; he was more loving, more attentive, gentler or kinder. But he was not, yet she still yearned for him.

"She and I, we stand in the sun together. Did she tell you about that? It's our thing…That island carries a lot of memories for us….So you see, it doesn't matter what I do to her, to her friends or anyone else. She will always come for me; she will always save me; she will always love me. It's who she is, now."

He won and he knew it. There was nothing I could say; nothing I could do. He had completely sucked the air out of me.

It was almost as if he described a complete stranger; a woman I had never met before. But, in truth, it was I who knew a stranger. She wasn't the woman I thought she was. Maybe this was my fault; maybe I had changed her, regardless, he was right, the woman I thought I knew was gone.

"Guard!" he called. He, the prisoner, was dismissing me. He was through with me; he had done his damage and inflicted his wounds. He could be proud of himself. "Goodbye, Mr. President. I'll see you soon."

I silently watched as the guard came and removed him from the room. His smile never faltered; his confidence never waned. I could envy him in that.


	7. Chapter 7

**(Reminder: This story is told from Fitz's point of view.)**

**Chapter 7**

We were all searching for something different. When Mellie spent her many hours at Jerry's gravesite she was searching for forgiveness. For so many years she had distanced herself from her son out of fear of his parentage. Somewhere along the way, something she found here gave her peace and she was able to forgive herself and leave the past behind.

Initially, I came seeking forgiveness as well. I had failed to protect my family, my son. The most basic role of a father and husband is to protect and love his family; give them the security they need. I hadn't done that and the guilt over my shortcomings remained with me. Lately though, I came for a different purpose. I could stand here staring at his tomb with the same questions on repeat in my head: _What were all the sacrifices for? Was it all worth it? _I hadn't yet found the answer.

Karen came sporadically. Her words were always the same "I miss you" "I love you". And I assumed being here fulfilled her need to be closer to her brother. But today was different.

"Are you dating the doctor?" Karen asked me after she laid the flowers on her brother's grave.

"What?" It was an untimely question that took me by surprise. Her back was to me; her shoulders were tight with tension. I had done nothing to give the impression of a personal relationship between Michelle and I. Beyond normal civilities, our conversations were solely based on Karen's treatment.

"Dad…."

"Karen, sweetheart, why would you ask me that question? Why here? Why now?"

She finally came and stood next to me. "The picture circulating of you and her dancing….At first I didn't think anything of it but I overheard mom talking to Olivia and she said there was more to your relationship."

_Gotdammit Mellie_. I had to bite down hard to release some tension before answering. "No Karen, I am not dating your doctor. I am not dating anyone."

"Are you happy Dad?" Her voice was full of sympathetic concern for my well-being.

I learned to be content with the good in certain aspects of my life and allow that to give me fleeting moments of happiness. It was all a man in my position could ask for. "I am happy that I have you and your brother with me," I answered diplomatically. It wasn't an answer and Karen knew it. She glanced at me sideways and frowned.

"You're not happy," she concluded. "It's being President. It's this office. I never knew that serving your country would mean sacrificing your own happiness. I just...I just wish we could be a happy family, whatever that looks like. But we'll never be as long as you're here, will we?"

She sounded defeated and all I wanted to do was promise her that we could be happy; that the sadness we felt was only temporary and that soon all the pain and regret would be a distant memory but I couldn't and Karen was wise enough to see through any bullshit I could try to feed her.

"Life is complicated and difficult but it is possible to find happiness within ourselves and with others."

I assumed her head nod meant she agreed with my statement and it was a sufficient answer.

It wasn't until we were in the car driving back to the White House that she spoke reflectively, "I suppose you could wait until you leave the White House to find happiness but…by then, after all this time, would you still know what it is…what it looks like?" She never looked at me. It was an introspective, rhetorical question. She never addressed the situation with Michelle and I couldn't tell whether this was her way of giving me permission to date her doctor.

"I have a boyfriend Dad….I love him and he makes me happy."

The shock rendered me speechless; a heaviness attaching itself to my heart. I didn't want to yell at her or overreact to her news but as I stared at her profile I couldn't help the feeling of sadness that someone else was being lost to me. She may be nearly 18 years old but to me she was still my 5 year old baby girl who liked to climb in my bed and watch cartoons on Saturday morning.

XXX

It was her turn to suggest we take a walk outside.

It had been several minutes and I could tell she was trying to choose her words very carefully.

"I had a chance to spend some time with Teddy last week. Karen let me in the residence. I know he's not my patient but I noticed that he doesn't talk very much. It may be nothing; children progress in different stages but still…it may help to have him see a speech therapist for an assessment. It's not my area of expertise but if you are open to it I can recommend someone."

Teddy was 4 years old and about to start Pre-school. I thought he had no problem talking to me and his sister. He had numerous play dates with Ella and she talked a lot more than he did but on the surface I didn't think it was unusual. Granted, I did remember Jerry and Karen being more talkative but I assumed Teddy was shy and simply talked less. However, if something was wrong I wanted to know about it and if he needed help then I was definitely open to it.

"If you think its best, then I trust your opinion. If you get me the information on the therapist I will look it over." I thought I heard her breathe a sigh of relief. "Were you worried about my reaction to your suggestion?"

"Well you never know…Some parents become angry at what they see as an interference in raising their children. I didn't want to offend or upset you."

I chuckled at the thought. "Believe me, others have said much worse about my parenting skills."

She smiled up at me. "You are doing fine Fitz…I can tell how much you love your children."

We were about to turn back when she said, "Can I ask you a personal question?"

Without thinking I gave her permission to ask me anything.

"Why aren't you dating?...I mean, even I could see more than one woman at the dinner was interested in you. And you are a very attractive man, so….I just wondered."

"I don't even know how to answer that question," I admitted. I wasn't prepared for the question and no answer readily came.

"Are you afraid of the country's reaction? You have had a very interesting second term so far. You got beat up pretty badly for the divorce but for the last month you've had some major accomplishments and the country is starting to sing your praise. The love for you is building again. They may finally be willing to accept you as a divorced man ready to start dating again."

I didn't realize she followed my political decisions so closely. It was nice to hear that someone noticed and appreciated the work I had been doing. In the last month, I had been working overtime to get things done; determined not to be recorded in history as a lame duck President.

"It's not about the country's reaction. To be honest, my personal life is still something I need to figure out and I would prefer that it not be on Cyrus' agenda or to-do list," I added lightheartedly. Amazingly, this conversation did not make me uncomfortable. I still felt the ease of talking with a good friend. At least until she made her next statement.

"Well…when you're ready, let me know. I would like to be your first candidate."

I stopped walking and looked at her to gage whether she was serious. She was and I didn't know how what to do with that information. A relationship with her could create a host of complications.

She smiled. "Does that make you nervous?"

I laughed. "Hell yes it does!"

She laughed and took my arm so we could continue walking. "Don't worry Fitz, I've got you."

XXX

"Here let me do that," she insisted as she forcibly moved my hands aside so she could adjust my tie.

"I know how to tie my tie Mellie, I've been doing it a long time…Why are you here in the residence?"

I admired her handiwork in the mirror before going to put on my shoes. At some point her belief that she had free reign all over the White House including my private bedroom was going to pose a problem but it wasn't a battle I wanted to fight today.

"I need to know that you will be on your best behavior this evening….this is her first time out with us in a social setting with her boyfriend…and I don't want you making things awkward in that sulky way of yours...or how you pout when you don't get your way. We all want to have a good time. Promise me you will not ruin it for her or any of us."

"I'm not a child Mellie; I do not need you to instruct me on how to behave at a party."

"I really don't think you realize how important this is to her. She will be watching to see how you act tonight…Do you…do you plan on drinking?"

She was wringing her hands; truly worried that I would get pissy drunk and embarrass everyone. I shook my head, "Mellie I've already met Chip, or Chucky or whatever. He's been here for dinner and it was fine, everything was fine."

She groaned loudly. "Fitz, his name is Jonathan!...He's been an intern at the White House for almost a month, how could you not know his name! Karen is going to be so hurt that you cannot even remember her boyfriend's name. I cannot believe you…." She stopped her tirade long enough to see my facial expression. She sighed and smiled, "You were joking, weren't you?"

I smiled back at her. I wasn't ecstatic about Karen dating but after numerous uncomfortable discussions with both her and Mellie, separately and together, I was slowly becoming resigned to the fact that my daughter was growing up faster than I wanted.

"Come on let's go," I started as I led her out of the residence. "You have your own car don't you? I don't want you riding with me."

She playfully hit my arm, "Shut the fuck up Fitz….I didn't want to ride with you anyway."

XXX

Abby and David's engagement party was, thankfully, a very private, very exclusive event. I wouldn't have to worry about a sudden flash of light in my face at the most inopportune moment. The undisclosed location was heavily secured and the guest list was strictly adhered to.

"David and I have something for you," Abby said in welcome as we switched gifts. I handed her my engagement gift and she handed me a small rectangular box.

"I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to be giving me gifts at YOUR party," I joked.

"Open it," Abby pressed.

I did and instantly my mood lightened. It had been a long time, a very long time, since I had one of these. My health was scrutinized so closely that any change in activity would spark a full medical report including mandatory directives to change this or add that. But this would be worth it.

I took out the Cuban and glided it under my nose, savoring the intoxicating smell; I couldn't wait to light it up.

David laughed at my expression of complete pleasure, "We're saving them for later…There's a Cigar Room set up for us in the back."

I smiled and sincerely thanked them. It was such a simple indulgence but each occasion carried its own special memory. Without any concentrated effort, the image flashed up in my mind: _Strip Poker at Camp David._ She had been very close to winning but in the end the cards landed my way. A gracious loser, she seductively removed the last piece of clothing she wore. A mischievous smile played on her lips as she crossed her legs on the table; high heels dangling on her feet. _'How would you like to celebrate your win, Mr. President?'_ she had asked after taking a long drag from my cigar. God, she was the sexiest woman I had ever seen in my life.

A chill went through my body as I tried to shake the memory. It was Abby's voice that jarred my thoughts.

"Try to relax and have a good time Mr. President…it's a party," Abby teased before I was ushered away by one person or another seeking an audience with me.

It may have been a party but that didn't stop multiple people from coming up to me to discuss politics. Two champagne flutes and twice as many conversations later, I could take no more. I snagged Andrew and let him take my place. If I was going to suffer through pointless boring conversations, then he was going to have a share.

I left him and walked away to mingle with people I actually enjoyed talking to.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," came the announcement over the microphone.

Her voice was like a siren song. Whatever I was saying, whatever I was doing was completely forgotten; my attention undivided and pointed only to her.

A vision in white, she was beautiful, breathtaking and my heart raced at the sight of her. It had been a month since my hospital visit. I tried to put her out of mind but it was futile. She was always there, present in every waking moment and every sleepless night.

I knew she tried to reach out to me. Abby relayed several messages of her request for me to turn on the phone. But each time I reached for it, my hand would shake and I would hear Jake's voice taunting me, laughing at me for believing in a foolish fantasy.

Despite my best efforts to forget, Jake's words stayed with me. They were like fiery coals heaped against my chest burning my flesh with searing pain yet I couldn't let them go. They haunted me, as likely he knew they would.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," she repeated in a lively yet firm voice that caused the room to go silent. "Good evening and welcome, my name is Olivia Pope and we are here to celebrate the engagement of my good friend, Abby Whelan and her love, her partner and soulmate, David Rosen." Applause erupted in the room.

When it calmed down she continued, "Abby, you are like the sister I never had. You are beautiful, loving and honest…sometimes brutally so."

"No Filter!" someone yelled, causing several laughs from the crowd.

"Abby you are like family and we certainly miss you at OPA….I don't think any of us have forgiven the President for stealing you away from us," she joked. I heard that she re-opened OPA and all her team was back, except for Abby.

A howl from the crowd caused a couple of snickering looks to be cast my way but in good humor I lifted my glass and smiled.

"You are the perfect couple. David, you are a good man, a great man and I know that you will take care of each other, cherish and love each other forever," she lifted her glass in toast and said "To Love."

"To Love," the audience repeated and everyone drank and clapped.

Despite being clouded by a sea of guests, with her last words, her eyes found mine in a moment of silent communication. It was a private salute in honor of the love we shared and I lifted my glass higher in appreciation of the gesture.

XXX

She did look happy and I couldn't help but smile at the sight. It may be temporary; next week, next year she may make a different choice. But tonight, at this moment, the smile she had on her face was brighter than any I had seen since her brother's death.

I watched as Jonathan twirled her around the dance floor; the laughter of my baby girl rising above all the noise. It filled my heart to capacity. She was beautiful.

"Are you dancing tonight Mr. President?"

I turned to find her smiling face beaming up at me. I downed the rest of my Scotch and sat the empty glass on the bar.

"Not if I can help it."

She smiled in that way that could literally make me do anything for her; burn the world down or lay it at her feet. I could fight against it for as long as I lived but this one woman would always be able to control me wholly and completely. The most I could hope for is that the acceptance of my situation was enough preparation for whatever lay ahead because, as it had always been, she was the one in full control of everything and everyone.

It was inevitable and I found myself leading her to the dancefloor.

"Your mother would be proud of you," she said once she was comfortably in my arms dancing. Her voice was a little breathless, almost undetected beyond the noise of music but I heard it. We were both affected by the nearness, the embrace, the music, the atmosphere and the situation.

"She would," I had to laugh at the thought. We both knew how much I hated dancing. It was my mother who insisted I take the dancing lessons. I learned and it was useful but still, if I had the choice I would much rather sit than dance except…except with her. For some reason, dancing with her was different; it was natural, comfortable and fulfilling as if no one else felt right in my arms but her.

"Why are you refusing to talk to me?"

"I'm talking to you now."

"You know what I mean Fitz. I know you've received my messages. You're avoiding me. You've cancelled several meetings with Mellie to prepare for the interview because you don't want to see me. Why?"

'_Because your bastard boyfriend played a fucking mind game on me and made me doubt who you were,'_ was what I wanted to say. But as we remained eye-to-eye, soul for soul, I knew an unmistakable truth: there were many different layers to us, compounded complexities the make us who we are but neither of us were happy in the lives we had separate from each other. And whether we ultimately found ourselves in each other's arms or not, we owned a piece of each other that we could never give back or grant to another person.

"I…..I just…"

"Excuse me can I cut in," Jake said after tapping me on the shoulder.

And just like that, with his presence and those few words, suddenly she felt like a scalding hot furnace and my hands dropped.

She, on the other hand, hadn't removed her hands from me; in fact, she held on tighter, like she wanted to prevent me from walking away.

"Jake what are you doing here? I told you not to come. I told you Abby did not want you here." She was extremely irritated.

Instead of answering her, he challenged me, "So are you going to step aside and let me dance with my girl or what?"

Before I could answer, she spoke, "I am not **YOUR** girl…Have you been drinking?...You need to leave Jake now!"

He looked between her and I and snarled, "Oh I see what this is…you didn't want me to come because you wanted to be with him…is that it? Is that what this is?...Are you fucking him already?"

**_Slap._** She slapped him so hard that even I flinched from the impact. His face was a fire red from the imprint of her hand. "Who I am or am not fucking is none of your gotdamn business!"

Instinctively, I moved to protect her from his rage or retaliation by inserting myself between the two of them. "OK Jake…You heard her. You need to leave." I was thankful for the fact that we were in a far corner, almost unnoticeable area of the dancefloor. The exclusive guest list, the steady music and mostly intoxicated guests that didn't seem to notice the escalating confrontation also helped. But apparently Abby noticed because suddenly she appeared.

She, too, was near drunk and in an outrage, which completely eliminated whatever measure of filter she had in reserve. "Liv, I thought I told you that I didn't want this asshole anywhere near my party…You need to get this punk ass mutha fucker away from me before I shoot him in the balls!"

_Shit._ This was going to escalate much farther than I expected. With one hand motion, two Secret Service agents responded and were present ready remove Jake from the party. As soon as they laid hands on him, he tried to jerk away.

Then, like the flip of a switch, his entire demeanor changed. His rage quelled and he suddenly became desperate, like a child in need. "Come with me Liv. You don't belong here you know it. We talked about this. You and me, we're supposed to be together, remember….we stand in the sun Liv. Come with me…." His plea was urgent. And from the look in Olivia's face, it was registering with her.

"Not this shit again…Get the fuck out of here!" Abby scoffed. They were my sentiments exactly.

"Enough!" Olivia called. "Let's go Jake." The agents backed away from Jake as he turned to leave; the smug, arrogant expression on his face turned my stomach.

Seeing it play out before my eyes exactly as he said; witnessing the control he had over her was too much. Watching her walk away and leave the party with him left me confused and angry.

"Unbelievable," Abby murmured shaking her head as she walked away in another direction.

Once again her words mirrored my thoughts. My evening had been ruined. For me, the party was over. I never smoked my cigar; there were no memories to be made.

XXX

"What…What…How did you get in here?"

My voice was harsher than I intended and she flinched at my tone.

"Cyrus snuck me up. Don't worry, no one saw," she explained. That wasn't really my concern. I could care less how she got here; it was more the question of _why_ she was here that concerned me.

I left the party shortly after she exited with Jake. But I wasn't tired and I couldn't calm my nerves so I went to the Oval to get some work done. An hour later I walked into my bedroom to find her standing by the window.

"Why are you here?" I asked, my tone no softer than it was before. I kept the distance between us as wide as possible.

"You never answered my question…Why are you avoiding me?"

My laugh was bitter and cold. "You ask me that after what just happened tonight?"

"Don't ask me about tonight, just know that I'm handling it," she responded firmly.

"Are you? Or is **HE** handling you instead?"

"Why are you so worried about him?...Why do you care?"

I shook my head wondering if it was worth me expending my breath on an explanation knowing it would change nothing. Her defiant stance was a challenge to me and cynically I rose to meet it. "Oh I don't know, maybe because I just saw you leave with the guy who beat the shit out of you just a month ago. I shouldn't be surprised though, being that you obviously dropped the charges and got him released from custody."

"My relationship with Jake has nothing to do with our friendship Fitz. I thought we were good. In the hospital, we talked and…I thought we were on our way to being friends."

"No, I'm sorry…we cannot be friends. I don't think you should be here. Maybe you should go back to the island and finish standing in the sun." It was a nasty remark and her intake of breath told me I hit the mark. Perversely, I didn't care. I wanted to hurt her like she hurt me. I wanted her to feel the pain of a heart that keeps breaking over and over again.

"You're being hateful and mean…you're trying to push me away but I'm not going away Fitz. I'm here and willing to talk about what's hurting you if you can stop acting like a spoiled child. Yes I helped Jake….he needed my help and I helped him. It's what I do…Would you have preferred that I let him ruin Abby's party?! He was making a scene and I took care of it. I handled it!"

She threw her hands up in frustration as her voice escalated, "I don't understand why in the hell we keep coming back to Jake?! Why do you keep blaming me for him! I didn't bring him here tonight. And don't forget, I didn't bring him into our lives…you did! You did that!"

Flushed with anger, I took off my jacket and threw it on the bed. My voice may have been calm but the insult was there. "Well technically, your father brought him into both our lives. The difference is that I asked Jake to watch over and protect you; your father sent him in to fuck you. At least _**his**_ orders were followed."

"You son of a bitch!...Forget it. You were right this was a mistake. I'm gone." She started moving toward the door and I panicked. My anger quickly deflated.

"Stop, please…Olivia, I'm sorry….I'm sorry. Please just wait," I pleaded. She stopped walking and turned to me waiting to hear what I had to say but this time her defenses were up. She eyed me suspiciously as she resumed her position far away from me.

Sighing restlessly, I removed my tie and began rolling up the sleeves on my shirt. "I can't get my head right with this," I admitted, sadly. "All I hear is your boyfriend's voice in my head telling me that the Olivia I knew is gone. You're a different person now. And you LOVED him so gotdamn much that he could choke you, throw you up against a wall, give you a concussion, release a sex tape on you, beat the fucking shit out of you and you would still come and save him. And tonight I saw it firsthand and I have to say Olivia…it sickened me."

She quickly looked away and I couldn't tell if it was anger, shame, embarrassment or the combination that she was feeling at the moment.

The longer she remained silent the guiltier I felt. I said too much, too soon and I regretted it.

"Did I do this to you?" I had to ask. I asked Mellie the same question not too long ago and I guess it could have been a little ironic that I was now putting the question to her. But I couldn't escape the gnawing feeling that left me contemplating the detrimental effect I may have had in their lives.

"What?" she turned in surprise.

"Did I do this to you? Did I make you this way?"

XXX

"After you found out about Defiance…I was hurt…more than hurt. I had never felt that type of pain before. I couldn't eat; I couldn't sleep; every day and night I thought about you. I cried constantly. I never felt so weak. It was a struggle for me to even function daily. I felt abandoned and rejected.

"You…you were right. I always controlled our relationship… I could push you away or I could bring you near. I set the pace of our relationship and that made me feel safe and protected; powerful, not vulnerable. But when you left me…when I couldn't get to you….Well let's just say there was only one other time where I felt anything close to that much crippling, suffocating pain…when I thought my mother died."

She was openly crying now. I wanted to go to her take her in my arms and comfort her but my feet were too heavy, weighed down on the spot.

Defiance would never go away. It would never die; not the act, not the consequences and certainly not my response to it. The way I treated her was unforgivable; it was cruel and hateful. It came from a place of deep resonating pain where I barely recognized myself and my only desire was to lash out and hurt everyone close to me.

I had only myself to blame because my reaction brought to birth all her worse fears and suspicions about me. And it cost me greatly because she no longer trusted me.

She calmed a little before she started again. "I was alone and Jake was there. He helped me through a time when I barely thought I would make it. He was a friend when you could barely look at me and I appreciate him for that and yes I do care for him. He has….faults and has made mistakes but…everyone deserves another chance Fitz…everyone deserves to be saved."

"Even if you destroy yourself in process?...And who helps you; who saves you?"

"I don't need…..

"Obviously you do…because no self-respecting woman would allow a man to physically assault her and then run away with him. No self-respecting woman would allow herself….."

"To become a man's mistress," she finished in a voice filled with regret. Her words, never mine.

I could see her eyes fill with fresh tears as she stared at me. The realization of everything came rushing in on me and in despair I ran my hand through my hair, causing it to stand up on ends. "That's where this all comes from isn't it?"

Once again, I was painfully reminded of what our relationship had done to her; how it ruined her self-esteem, for which she desperately tried to compensate in other areas; how it devalued her self-respect. And it didn't matter how much I loved her; I couldn't love her enough for the both of us.

Everything that passed between us, against us and for us, stemmed from that one night in a hotel on the Trail where she rolled her suitcase into my room. For me, it had been an awakening, the beginning of a new found love, a reason to keep living but for her it had meant something different, a path towards self-depreciation and overcompensation to make up for a moral mistake that seemed to be the worse crime ever.

Her silence was telling. I had done this to her. "Thanks for answering my question."

XXX

The hours had passed. The sun would be up soon. We were both emotionally exhausted, yet neither of us moved. She sat on the couch while I stood at the window. In my mind, I had been replaying every action and reaction I took in our relationship; like moving pictures in my head. I wondered if she was doing the same.

"You should go. The press corp will be in soon."

"You think I regret us don't you?" she asked.

My focus was on the garden below, finding a measure of calm in the variety of colors in bloom. "I really don't know what to think."

I could hear her moving from the couch and the faint footsteps but I couldn't tell if she was leaving and selfishly I didn't want this sight to be my last memory of her. It was better to just keep focusing on the flowers below.

"Aren't you tired of it?"

I was mildly surprised that she was still here with me. "Tired of what?"

"Tired of the past; tired of using it to hurt one another, like we are keeping score on who hurt the other more. Can we call it even? We've both done some fucked up shit to each other. We're both hurt Fitz. We're both damaged. And….this is our last chance."

That statement made me turn in confusion. She was arm's length away from me. "Our last chance at what?"

Taking a step forward, her eyes were clear; her head lifted high as if she dared me to disagree with whatever she was about to say. "We've gone back and forth too many times. Don't you feel it?...This is our last chance to get it right, Fitz."

My heartbeat raced at the implications of what she was saying to me. Was it fear or excitement?

She came even closer; her hand hesitated briefly before caressing my face. "I want….I want to start fresh; a new slate. I want to learn from the past, not use it as a weapon to hurt each other. Can you do that with me?"

She saw my confliction and rushed to speak to cut me off. "I'm through playing games Fitz. I'm here because I'm ready…I'm ready to give my all to you, all of me. I'm ready to commit to you…to us. No running, no hiding, no secrets…It's just you and me."

Her beautiful eyes were pleading with me to give the answer that could mean everything or nothing. She was right. I felt it too. This would be our very last chance to get this right. If it didn't work this time, we would be done for good and forever, for real.

We could roll the dice; our cards were on the table. We knew what we were getting into. It would be a knowing decision, whether we would risk it all one final time.

Still I hesitated. Knowing the depth of darkness I sunk to before, trying again would be one hell of a gamble. I couldn't think with her so near, I needed space. I moved to the couch and dropped restlessly. She followed.

"For seven months I was half way across the world, trying to find a way to erase this from my mind; trying to find a way to live without you and I couldn't. Pretending to be happy is not happiness Fitz; it's misery. Trying to make something work with someone you really don't want is misery. I learned that...I know what that is. And I know that I never, ever want to do that again. You and I," her words became emphatic and urgent as she took my hands in hers, forcing me to look at her, "We will never be any good for anyone else but each other. This is who we are. We will only be happy in each other's arms and pretending otherwise is just bullshit."

I had wanted a life with her for so long that I could barely remember a time when I didn't. It was like my life before her had become a blur of mundane existence with the only saving grace being my children. My life was now defined by two stages – before I met Olivia and after I met Olivia. She was the true center of everything.

When she brought my head down to hers, I didn't resist. I was spellbound and I wanted nothing more than to feel the warmth of her lips pressed against mine.

Both our eyes were wide open. Neither of us would be going in half-blind, innocent, gullible or unknowing. We now knew each other in ways where pretenses were unnecessary and useless. We knew the uglier side of ourselves. We had turned each other inside out, exposed the deepest parts of who we were and if the love could endure beyond that point then maybe it was worth salvaging.

The kiss was gentle at first; a slight connection. I think we both thought the other would pull away; maybe one of us would have a delayed reaction to a near mistake. But it didn't happen. She held my head in place, gradually her fingers went to my hair and as my hands found her waist, pulling her closer; the kiss intrinsically deepened.

It wasn't casually sexual or overtly carnal; it felt warm and inviting, like a coming home after being lost for so long. It was like we were remembering who we were to one another. The intimacy we shared never hinged on sex; the connection went much deeper than that. The tie bound more than our physical bodies; it bound our hearts and souls to one another.

I was the first to break contact, not out of rejection but a need to slow the pace of whatever this was going to be. The delicacy of our situation could be ruined before it even started. I laid my forehead on hers and smiled at her swollen lips; so beautiful, so intoxicating. She smiled back. It was the first step.

I moved to stand up but she stopped me with a hand on my arm. "One minute?" she asked with a shy smile.

"One minute," I agreed with a smile to match hers.

As we settled back in on the couch; her petite form engulfed in my arms, we both breathed a sigh of relief, comfort and maybe hope. She felt absolutely perfect in my arms. The world was aligning properly for once; we were both at the right time and in the right place.

I wasn't ready to talk about what would come after this moment. I just wanted to be in the here and now. My arms tightened around her and she moved in closer to me.

Time would tell whether we could trust each other enough to fully realize that the people we wanted to be; the better, satisfied and happier versions of ourselves would only come when we're with the person we are supposed to be with.

All the words I spoke to her since her return had been a design of my mind and heart to protect me and push her away. Verbally, I could protest that we were over, no good for each other and needed to sever all ties but it wasn't the truth. This, her being in my arms, was the truth. I could fight it like an uphill battle but I would always come back to moments like this; when all the hurtful words and harmful actions could be forgotten. Because in one minute of silence, a million words of regret, apology, forgiveness, acceptance and love were spoken. And it was, as it always had been, exactly what both of us needed to believe.

_**(A/N: Finally, I could leave a chapter on a happy note. I felt bad for how I left the previous chapter and I wanted to post this one sooner but life got in the way. Thanks again for reading. I hope you are enjoying this road to recovery they are on.)**_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

When I started my first campaign into politics, I made certain promises to myself; lines I told myself I would never cross; roads I would never travel down. As a first-hand eyewitness to the power-hungry corruption of my father, I was determined to be exact opposite; to be a better man.

Despite my best efforts, I **had** crossed the line, so many lines – murder, adultery, deceit, manipulation, lies. I colored outside the lines; operated largely in the gray areas. I could easily justify each action – part of a greater good or higher purpose. But did it really matter? I had taken on many of my father's characteristics while desperately trying to hold on to the shreds of the man I was before.

It was times like these, especially, when all the lies and pretenses seemed to burden me down. When I felt my moral integrity slipping farther away, the compass dipping further South and the walls of this prison took deeper roots into my heart; all I wanted was to escape.

Sitting next to the woman I spent almost three decades building a façade of idealism did nothing to help my disposition but suppressing my emotions and playing the part had become a necessity and therefore, I developed the skills to master it expertly.

It was our first joint on-air interview since the divorce and after constant coaching from Olivia, her team, Cyrus and Abby, it was going flawlessly. If Mellie and I were anything, we were believable, critically-acclaimed actors. The key to perjury was to believe the lie so deeply, make it apart of you, so much that the truth no longer mattered or at the very least, it could not be distinguished.

The questions were intense but we were prepared. It was like we were reading from an imaginary teleprompter; our answers were clear, precise, appearing natural and unrehearsed.

"_What affect has this had on your children….What about their upbringing and training?"_

As if these people gave a fucking shit about my children! The temptation to shift in my chair out of irritation was repressed when, in my peripheral, I felt Olivia sharp glance in my direction.

The political pundits spent hours reading my body language, facial expressions and slightest gestures; analyzing my tells to determine if the answers I gave could be trusted as genuine or rhetorical bullshit.

Game face. Let Mellie answer first, wait for the signal to chime in. Look at each other and smile – one, two, three seconds; then back at the host.

"_Did your infidelity play a major role in the decision to divorce?"_

My fake affair with Jeanine Locke – another pretense I put up to get Jake out of the hole; humiliating myself in front of the nation for the greater good.

Guilt by transference for full display of remorse. Acceptance of being the sole party responsible for the destruction of my marriage; admissions heavily laced with deflections. No clear answers; ambiguous, yet trustworthy; giving nothing that could be used against me later.

Mellie was to give an affectionate gesture; pat my knee – one time, two times then let her hand linger in place with a look of compassion towards me. Statement of continued friendship and support of one another as we raise our children.

All the right words, perfect body language, gestures on cue – a perfect interview. Beaming looks of pride and victory all around waiting for a reaction from me.

After so many years of pretended wedded bliss, pretending to be in love, pretending to be best friends, pretending that we didn't want to kill each other on a daily basis, I had hoped these types of things would get easier for me. But they never did. The same feelings always came: weariness and despair.

XXX

"You know, I used to sit at home watching your interviews with Mellie and wonder. I know what you told me about your dead, cold marriage but a part of me still wondered if it was actually true. I wondered if maybe there was still a part of you in love with her; a part of you that wanted your marriage to work out. When you're sitting in your apartment alone with nothing but a bottle of wine to keep you company, your mind starts playing tricks on you and even the most outrageous thoughts can become so damn convincing."

"You should have believed me," I replied conclusively.

"Maybe," she sighed as she removed her shoes and put down her purse. "So this is the place you retreat to?"

"When the lies get to be too much for me."

When the dark stain of this life threatened to blacken my soul, I would retreat Teddy's room to be alone with him. It felt like a return to innocence. Simple moments when the purity of a son's love was enough to make me feel clean again.

She then spoke to Teddy and sat on the carpet next to him. He looked in her direction a couple times and deciding he was comfortable with her presence, smiled back at her and continued playing.

"What do you say Teddy?"

Teddy looked at her again and easily said, "Hi Liv."

A strange look came across her face that made me wonder what she was thinking but she quickly corrected it. "Hi Teddy, it's good to see you again. Can I play with you and your father?"

Teddy shrugged in indifference.

"Use your words Teddy, what do you say?" I gently coaxed.

Teddy looked between me and Olivia and finally said, "Yes, you can play with us." He gave Olivia a toy truck to play with; she smiled and thanked him.

"We are working with him and his speech. Michelle suggested that he may need speech therapist. I'm still looking into it," I explained.

"Michelle spends a lot of time with Teddy?" she asked. There was a condemnatory tone to her question but I didn't acknowledge it.

"No, not really. She just observed some things when she came to the residence a few times." Although, I was looking at Teddy, I could feel her beaming, inquisitive eyes upon me but when I turned in her direction she quickly looked away.

It had been a week since our conversation in the residence. We talked frequently on the phone, usually at night about safe topics surrounding the day's activities and our jobs. I didn't push, I didn't pull; I simply followed her lead. We spoke when she wanted to; we talked about things she wanted to discuss.

I didn't dare ask for more. I was afraid. I was afraid that the wrong question, the wrong discussion would spook her, she would clam up and the friendship we started would quickly evaporate.

In truth, my greater fear was going all in, giving in too quickly. It was only my self-imposed restraint that prevented me from pushing our relationship to where I truly wanted it to be. It wouldn't take much effort; I was conceited enough to know that I could wear her down – as I had time and time again. I could have her sharing my bed every night from here on end.

But this time around, I wanted much more than that. I wanted all of her. I wanted everything – nothing less.

"How did you know you would be a good parent?" she asked as she moved Teddy's hair away from his face.

I wondered why she asked the question and what answer I could give her that would help the most; put her most at ease.

"I didn't…But something happened when I realized I was going to have a child; something within me changed and when they're born and you look at them for the first time. You see their faces looking back at you…there's such a look of wonder on their faces and you realize that you would give anything and everything for them."

Lost in the moment, I thought about each of my children – including Jerry. Each of them were so different, so unique; born with their own personality and I immediately loved them. It was hard to describe to anyone who never experienced it.

Eventually, I looked back at her and she too was lost in thought. I always spoke of children, she never did. I assumed she wanted them but perhaps I was wrong. I wanted to know how she felt; what she wanted. But again, I didn't push, I didn't pull. I followed her lead and if she wanted to remain silent on the subject, then that's what we did.

XXX

"For most people, it would be a simple question but I'm sensing that for you it's more….complex?"

_Are you happy?_ It was a simple question. I should have been able to answer it immediately. I should have been happy. The love of my life, the woman I wanted so desperately, for so long – sometimes to the point of insanity - was here and ready to start a true relationship. I should have been happy but something was off; something didn't feel quite right. And whatever it was created a hindrance to the happiness I was supposed to feel.

I always imagined that the moment we truly committed to making this work would be amazing, one of the most fulfilling, uncontained joyful times of my life. Whenever it came, it would be the start of infinite possibilities for us; a true beginning to a wonderful life. But it wasn't a feeling I could own at the moment.

What I was feeling was an increment short of the amazing joy of having a true, loving partner to share your life with. And I didn't know why.

"Have you ever wanted something for so long, knowing in the back of your mind that it would never truly be but wanting it just the same and when it's finally within you grasp….when you finally feel like it could be yours, it scares you so bad that you are almost afraid to claim it?"

After a moment of reflection, Dr. Manheim asked, "If you could isolate the fear, name it specifically, how would you describe it?"

I had been thinking about this for days now. My conversations with Olivia remained superficial. We were both gun shy and afraid to dig deep. Without an open, honest relationship, we wouldn't survive; we had to eliminate the darkness, to find our way to the light.

"I don't know…I guess I've hurt her for so long and so deeply that I'm afraid I won't know how to love her. I don't know what we look like when we don't have Mellie, my marriage, Cyrus and everything else standing between us. I may have hated the obstacles but I think….I used them as a security too. It kept me from having to think too hard, try so hard to make it work. We weren't a true couple so I could safely love her from afar, without too much effort. But what happens now? What if who I am, the man that I am is not what she really wants?"

The second hand on the clock ticked on for what seemed like forever while Dr. Manheim sat and watched me intently. Under such scrutiny, I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. A feeling of anxiety began to creep upon me as I waited for him to say something.

"One of the first things we acknowledged was your dependency on Olivia to become what you needed to – for lack of a better word - survive. In every relationship there is a measure of need and want, give and take but a balance must be struck. An over-abundance of co-dependency puts too much pressure on a person. It is unfair to make any one person responsible for our own survival. In the end, because human beings are fallible, we will end up being utterly disappointed. The point of our sessions was to help you find the personal, emotional and mental strength within yourself to be the man you wanted to be. How do you think you have progressed in that regard?"

Focusing on my progress over the past year, I could honestly say I liked the man I was today. I enjoyed the familial and professional relationships I had; a result of working hard to repair, restore, maintain and strengthen. I still had a long way to go but I at least I felt like I was on the right track and I told him so.

"Have you ever heard of a Savior complex?"

"You mean someone who is constantly saving others?" I responded dismissively. Still not seeing the relevance to our conversation.

"That's part of it but it goes much deeper. A person with a Savior complex tends to base their value and worth on their ability to save others. It's how they validate their existence. It's how they prove themselves to the world. It's how they seek love and approval from others. They attract people into their lives who they see as in need of saving. They see people as projects and assignments that need to be fixed. And, as you can imagine a person with this complex has difficulty identifying, validating and owning their own individual needs which can hinder the progress of a relationship."

I knew where this assessment was going but it didn't make it any easier to hear.

"I have never personally met Olivia but from what you have described of her and your relationship in the past and present, there is a strong indication that she may have this complex. And if so then your concern may be valid. Will she appreciate the stronger version of you that does not need her to survive? Can she eliminate her desire to save and fix you and simply love you as the man you are? I cannot answer those questions. But those are questions that require an answer if you expect to make significant progress in your relationship…Keep in mind though, these feelings, and this complex, are not merely surface or superficial; they usually are created early on in life. They run very deep."

XXX

"What's this?" I asked in clear annoyance. Harrison, Olivia's associate, had been shown into the Oval by Cyrus with a message for me. I was reluctant to take the piece of paper from his hand. I had a feeling that it was neither something I wanted or needed.

"It's an address….Where she's at…You should go there and see her. She's alone," Harrison explained.

I stared at him; my anger rising fresh anew. It was supposed to be our first dinner together. She suggested it, I didn't but after an hour of no appearance and no calls, I had given up. She wasn't coming. I tried not to be disappointed but the hurt quickly morphed into anger.

The hour was now late and instead of spending the evening pacing a path of indignation in the residence, I decided to return to the Oval.

"I'm sure she's fine." My response was nonchalant but not as firm as I would have liked; betraying my personal battle of whether or not I should expend any more energy trying to care. I attempted to hand the paper back to him but Harrison stood defiantly; he put his hands in his pockets, refusing to take it back.

"With all due respect Mr. President, I wouldn't be here if she was fine… And we both know Olivia is not the type to reach out for help when she needs it. It's up to us who _**LOVE**_ her to know when she needs help and give it to her the best we can….I am here in service to a friend because I know how much she loves you and needs you in her life."

He didn't wait for my response. He nodded in thanks to Cyrus and left.

I continued to stare at the piece of paper as if somehow it would reveal the right course of action I should take.

"I can have a car brought around for you," Cyrus offered. It was a surprising proposal. Cyrus had always been the one working the hardest to keep me in my place, which in his mind was far away from Olivia.

"What makes you think I'm going?"

Cyrus looked at me perceptively. He shrugged explained matter-of-factly, "Because you are Fitz and she is Olivia."

XXX

I only knew the house because I recognized it in pictures I had seen a long time ago. I had never been inside but the outside was just as I had remembered from the photographs of her childhood home. There was a 'for sale' sign out front and one single light on in an upstairs room. I assumed she had been here to clean out her family's affects prior to the sell.

Even in the cover of darkness, the agents took extra care to make sure my appearance on a public street remained undetected. I patiently waited for them to give me the signal that I could exit the vehicle and in all the ticking minutes, I continued to talk myself out of leaving. I had come all this way; I might as well see it through.

Door unlocked; the house was quiet. Like of fog of thick gloom, I saw and felt the chill immediately. I could excuse it as the cold night air but the clinical, sanitized nature of the rooms seemed to give testimony to a coldness of affection from the house's former occupants. There was no warmth in this place.

It was then that I heard the faint sound of music. It was coming from upstairs and I began to climb the stairs in search for it. I didn't know what I would find when I got to the source. I realized how little I knew about Olivia's childhood. Olivia spoke very little about it. I gathered little bits and pieces from her and Cyrus but not enough to form a clear, composite picture of the influence and surroundings that helped shaped the woman I saw today.

What was it like living here with Rowan without her mother? What type of father was he to her growing up?

"Olivia…"I called out as I continued to slowly climb, careful not to scare her with my sudden appearance. I still had no clue why I was here or whether she would welcome my presence. Maybe she needed the privacy; maybe I was intruding on her memories. "Olivia…"

Still nothing.

Her silence began to worry me and I felt a knot forming in my chest. I reached the top of the stairs and went to her room.

She was there buried deep under the covers. I could barely make out the top of her head. "Olivia?" I called softly from the doorway and still no response and no movement from the bed. Her face was turned away from me, maybe she had fallen asleep.

I walked around the bed to face her. I stood in her direct line of sight and yet, although her eyes were wide open, she didn't see me. She didn't blink. There was no acknowledgement to my presence. "Olivia?" Her eyes were haunted; she appeared afraid and in despair.

I had never seen her like this; shaken, almost comatose in fear. In earnest, I tried again. "Olivia?"

The only response from her was slight shiver through her body and she tightened the covers around her. I did the only thing I knew how to do. I quickly discarded my shoes, my jacket, my dress shirt and I climbed into bed with her. She didn't resist as I pulled her body close to mine; her back flushed against my chest and held her. She felt warm, soft and yet vulnerable. She didn't resist my embrace; she may have known it was me in bed with her or in her state; she may have been completely unaware of anything.

It was several minutes later when I heard her whisper, "Fitz?"

"I'm here Olivia…it's okay."

"Can you stay?...Can you stay with me?" was all she asked.

"For as long as you need me."

"Thank you."

XXX

Her childhood bedroom was nothing like I would have expected but at the same time not as surprising as it should have been. There were no pictures on the walls, only awards, plaques and achievements. No mementos to reflect a young girl's life. Thinking back to Karen's old room, I remembered stuff animals, posters from boy-bands, jewelry, make-up, the works; all the things inherent with a girl's passage through life. None of that was here. What was it like for her, living in this house?

The song _"I Never Dreamed You Leave in Summer"_ by Stevie Wonder was now playing.

"I remember playing this song over and over again after my mother died. My father hated it. I learned to play it very low, so he couldn't hear or when he wasn't home," she reflected in a quiet far away voice. "I'm sorry I missed our date…It wasn't my intention to stand you up."

"It doesn't matter," I excused although we both knew it was a lie. But considering our current position and how I found her just minutes ago, it no longer seemed like the most relevant subject to discuss.

I could feel her deep breathing; it came out in rasps and shudders. "It's not what you think Fitz…It's not because I didn't want to or I was running or afraid. It's not that."

"Olivia stop…I'm fine, just rest."

Her body relaxed and I could feel the tension leaving her. She kissed the back of my hand before explaining, "When my mother died, all the light in my world became dark, like the flip of a switch. I didn't know how to deal with her death and my father never talked about it; never allowed for the mourning I needed. I went into a deep depression. He didn't know how to deal with it so he shipped me off to boarding school. I stayed there all year – breaks when most kids went home, I stayed. And he rarely ever visited. I felt like an orphan. I never celebrated holidays or birthdays; I never had slumber parties, family outings or barbeques; there was nothing normal about my childhood. I did nothing normal children did. All I knew was to work harder than my peers, achieve more, push harder, become more…A coldness, a defense against the need for affection and love developed in me and my father hardened and encouraged it."

There was no resentment in her voice. She had learned to separate herself from the sad truth of her childhood. She was telling the story as if it belonged to someone else.

"The pressure of who I am suffocates me Fitz. Everyone expects me to be the formidable Olivia Pope, to be great, to have all the answers, to always know what to do and how to do it. And sometimes…sometimes I'm just the little girl who used to sit in this room listening to Stevie Wonder records, trying to figure out how to make her father love her."

After several minutes of silence, I thought maybe she had fallen asleep until she started again, "I came here today to up pack a few things; put some things in storage. I never intended to stay long. I never intended to stand you up for our date. But the longer I sat here thinking, I realized the one thing in my life that I don't know how to do, the one thing I can't figure out is how to make a man like you happy. How do I do that?...How do I make you love me again? I'm so damaged; I've damaged so many things…"

_A man like me?… A man like me?_

Gently, I turned her body to face me; the once dead, vacant eyes were now alive and focused. She was looking to me for answers I didn't yet have. Neither of us knew exactly how to do this. But we could figure it out together.

The insight into her childhood was invaluable. Her fear of abandonment and rejection was not the normal human reaction to risky relationships. It had been imbedded deep into her psyche. She had only learned how to make people love her by fostering a relationship of dependence, their personal Savior, tethering them to her life so that she would never be alone again. She hadn't allowed herself to fully believe that people, that I, would love her simply for the incredible, amazing person that she was.

"We are all damaged; we have all done damage. Our character is built when we try to repair what has been done…I love you Livvy," I assured her. The sigh of relief that came as she closed her eyes and rested against my chest told me that it was enough.

XXX

It had been a perfect day. We were exhausted; spending a Saturday afternoon chasing after a 4 and 5 year old would wear anyone out but it was a good tired.

Ella and Teddy's playdate left them both struggling to keep their eyes open and finally giving in to a restful sleep. Ella was in Olivia's arms and Teddy was in mine as we walked through the residence towards the direction of their bedrooms.

Our hushed laughter and smiles completed evaporated at the sight of the woman standing in the hallway blocking our path. She was like a dragon breathing fire and ready for battle. Her appearance alone had effectively sucked the joy out of a great day.

"So this is really happening then?" Mellie accused as she gesture to Olivia and I. She had been anxious, ready to unleash her condemnation, which she only held in check long enough to allow Olivia and I to put Ella and Teddy in bed.

Now as we all stood in the residence, her pompous, perceived entitlement gave her the boldness to speak her mind with enough cruelty that would cause the most injury.

"What are we talking about Mellie and why are you in my home? I didn't invite you here. You coming here whenever you please, ends today."

She gasped in outrage but I didn't give her the attention she was clamoring for. "Olivia can I get you something to drink?" I asked instead, dismissing Mellie and walking towards the kitchen.

"Sure…" Olivia said as she followed me into the kitchen. We gave each other a quick glance of understanding. We both knew we were about to get Mellie riled up but neither of us cared.

"Fitzgerald Grant, I am the mother of your children. This used to be my home. My children live here. I can come and go as I please!"

"No, you cannot! 'Used to be' those are the operative words. You no longer live here. I live here and you will not come and go as you please…You do not share this part of my life any longer. It's over! From this moment on, the agents will not allow you in the residence without my permission."

I should have known this blow up was going to happen; the signs were there and the storm had been brewing for some time now. I hated that it had to happen in front of Olivia and I expected that any moment she would defer to Mellie and excuse herself from the residence as if she had no interest, no personal stake in my life.

"So you two are really gonna try this bullshit again…What's the ridiculous plan this time? What idealistic, romantic, idiotic scheme have you come up with this time Fitzgerald? You really think the American people will accept her as your girlfriend?!," she laughed mockingly. "You two are the most delusional, dumb ass people I have ever met. Why can't you ever get it through your thick heads that this relationship, this occasional fucking that you want to call a relationship, is toxic, damaging and destructive to everyone around you?"

I moved toward Mellie, intent to throw her out on her ass but Olivia stepped in front of me. "You found out didn't you Mellie?"

I frowned in confusion but looking at the silent communication between Mellie and Olivia told me that Mellie understood the question perfectly. She turned her back as if she didn't want to face the disclosure but Olivia filled in the blanks. "Andrew is cheating on her."

That was a blow I wasn't prepared for. My anger subsided a little.

"Shit!...Mellie I'm sorry," I was genuinely compassionate to her situation. I know she truly loved Andrew and they had a plan to start a real life together. I could try to overlook her tirade and excuse it as her hurt feelings being projected onto Olivia and I. But Mellie was a special kind of person. She only wanted empathy and comfort on her terms and never, ever in a way that weakened her position or caused her to appear pitiful.

"Do not…do not feel sorry for me!" She finally turned to address her anger directly towards Olivia. "Do you know why I hired you?...I hired you because I knew you were still screwing Fitz's Navy buddy and I knew it would kill him to look at you and know it was happening...to know that he couldn't do shit about it. That and knowing that his ex-wife was screwing his friend Andrew would be enough to eventually send him off the rails….Losing the women in his life to his friends is the perfect…absolute perfect torture for him.

"I wanted him to hate you…to be reminded that the 'love of his life' the 'great Olivia Pope' was nothing but a user who left him without a word when his son died….took off to God knows where to fuck his best friend…I wanted him to know the pain I felt when I lost him to you, a person I trusted with my family and my future. I wanted him to know the sleepless nights of wondering why no one loves you, why no one cares…And this time, I wouldn't be there to help him pick up the pieces.

"This time, I wouldn't be there to put him back together again because he so conveniently got rid of me!...He would be completely alone…which is exactly what he deserves!"

Her airing of my dirty laundry wasn't done yet. "Or maybe he'll have Cyrus call that slutty Senator that he found in Fitz's bed. She's just a phone call away, isn't she Fitzgerald? Ready to suck your Presidential dick at a moments notice, right?...Oh come on Liv, he's a man!...You didn't think he was saving himself for you did you? Did you think he only got off to thoughts of you in the shower, while you were on the other side of the world getting your ass slapped by his best friend!"

Mellie's viscous tirade, although directed at Olivia, really had little to do with her. Mellie was angry with me. She had been angry with me for years; since my Father assaulted her; since she decided to sacrifice her life for my career. The anger, resentment and disgust had been building for years and years and she wasn't going to let it go. The divorce only caused the wound to fester and become cancerous. Anything short of me groveling at her feet, begging for forgiveness was never going to satisfy her. And that was something I was never going to give her.

Once again, I attempted to end this conversation but Olivia did it first. "Mellie you need to leave…You've said what you had to say. Fitz and I have heard you out. I will cancel our contract and if you need help finding another campaign manager my team will help you. But this part, where you unload all the injuries Fitz has put upon you while you were the innocent Saintly wife who only wanted to love her husband routine, is over. We all know it's not the truth, so let's not pretend that it is."

I had been so used to our circumstances making Olivia feel that she didn't have a right to stand up for herself, for us, that to now hear her challenging Mellie; standing by my side against her spoke more to my heart than anything. It meant that Olivia was finally acknowledging her place in my life; she was coming to know how important she was to me; that, both inside and outside of my marriage, she was my priority; she was my partner.

So filled with love for her, I couldn't help the smile that came upon my face. Mellie mistook my smile as a mockery to her and the flash of pain was quickly covered by a more vengeful emotion.

Mellie laughed. "God….I bet you have been itching to do that since the day you let him in your pants. To claim my husband and put me in my place." She laughed again and went to pick up her purse. "I cannot wait for the day when this fuck-fest crashes and burns and it will because NEWSFLASH Fitzgerald, _**SHE DOES NOT LOVE YOU!**_...She will leave you **AGAIN** and you will end up a miserable mess, lying out on the floor **AGAIN**…."

"Mellie," I warned. I knew where she was going. I knew what she was doing. It was by design. It was her method of not only having the last word but inflicting the last, most, hurtful blow to me. We swore we would never speak of the incident. She promised that she wouldn't. It was a moment of weakness that I was not proud of and I never wanted to be reminded of it.

She smiled deviously and continued, "...Trying to kill yourself because **YOUR WHORE** left you for another man…but this time baby, no one will be there to save you and maybe then you'll finally succeed at something."

I could feel Olivia's eyes bearing into me but I couldn't face her. I stared at Mellie, whose venomous rage knew no bounds. There was no limit to the extent of how she would hurt me; I knew that now.

She smiled at her victory as she walked out of the front door.

**_(A/N: Couple of notes: 1. As you can see Harrison is alive in my story. 2. My story will not focus on the politics of the WH or any cases at OPA unless there is a direct connection to the OLITZ relationship. I only want to explore their relationship and their recovery. 3. I am not, nor have I ever studied to be a psychiatrist. So I have no idea if what I write is accurate or true to the medical profession. I have a lot of respect for people who do that job so please forgive me if some things are just completely off. I write as I feel Fitz thinks. I incorporate info to TRY and explain Olivia too but I don't do that as well because frankly I'm not as confident that I understand her as well as I do Fitz. I try but I don't think I do a very good job at that. My goal was to get this posted before the premier because I really don't know what is in store for us and I think I have proven that the show can sap my energy and motivation for writing and posting very easily. I will try not to let that happen but I can't promise it. Sorry. _**

**_Anyway I hope you enjoyed their continued journey. Progress, progress, progress:)_**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"You should go."

I purposefully walked away without looking back; the scent of her filled my nostrils, connecting, trying to pull me back in but I refused to allow it.

She may have gasped at the words or it may have been the wind, a trick of the mind. I couldn't hear her; I couldn't bear to hear her – not now.

I knew my remark was unexpected, possibly cold yet I wasn't inclined to explain, suddenly my head was spinning; thoughts flooding in and out of my mind. Mellie had been like a targeted category five hurricane, kicking up dust and creating havoc; an uproar of winds delineating the one person in the eye of the storm – me.

The air shifted, thinned; my chest felt tight, constricted and I couldn't breathe easily. I felt claustrophobic by her presence.

On the balcony, the darkening, dusty sky was like a balm. The fog was rolling in bringing cool, crisp air with a bit of chill. I took deep breaths, letting the exhilarating air fill my lungs; enough to suffocate and bury those intense emotions, threatening like the dark cloud in the east.

Merely moments ago the sun was kissing her skin, setting it aglow and her laughter was being carried with every breeze. Ella said something clever to Teddy; their childlike language our source of entertainment all afternoon. That kind of moment had become so rare– a glimpse of unrestrained joy – so unlike the constant pain and hurt that affected all my relationships. It was short-lived and even as I closed my eyes to capture the memory of her laughter, my body tensed because I felt her presence again. She had not left; sighing restlessly I wished she had.

The view was beautiful; I never tired of it. It would be one of the very few things I would miss when I left this place. That was the answer; if I could just focus on the view – the swaying leaves, the descending sun and rising moon – then maybe, maybe the anger and resentment wouldn't be awakened.

I wasn't supposed to regress. I dealt with this months ago; it wasn't supposed rise up like bile in the back of my throat. Just the mention of "the event" caused me to shut down and implode within myself; forcing me to acknowledge that I hadn't let go of being angry at who I was, what I had become and what it caused.

She was still standing there, beaming doe eyes burning holes in my back, waiting for me to turn around and do something, give her some reason, some type of explanation.

And I couldn't see it, I refused to see it – the condemnation, the pity, the disappointment, the sadness, the regret or a mixture of it all would be there waiting for me, clearly resonating on her face. I wanted none of it. I never wanted her to know because I never wanted to explain it to her. I never wanted to see the words floating between, suspended in minutes of time, waiting to hear her response. The silence of unknowing would be deafening and I knew I couldn't to deal with it.

If she would just leave, I could channel my emotions in another direction. Dr. Manhiem's voice was in my ear – exercise, a hobby and writing – anything to deflect the energy into positive pursuits. I had tried all three. I had taken up playing the guitar again; it was more therapeutic than I remembered and I was still pretty good at it.

But writing had been my go-to route, my method of escapism. I was already half-way through my second journal. They may have been my memoirs but in reality, it was a dedication to my son Teddy; each entry a life-lesson that I was grasping and could pass on to him. His memories of this time would be few, if any, and there was so much I needed him to know. My mistakes, my triumphs, my wins and my losses, an honest examination of my life in black ink – in discretion, some details were wisely left out – but the message was clear: _Perceived or real, absolute power corrupts men; it turns men upside down, replacing who they were with who they ought not to be and if upon honest self-reflection, you don't like the man you have become then you can either embrace the darkness and let it claim your soul or you can find your light and travel a different, more illuminated path. It was never too late to change._

Olivia had been my light but no more. The tragedy of events forced me to find my own source of light; my own reason to live.

The beer was warm; I had nursed it too long. I needed her to leave. I needed to write. There were lessons to be learned from bitchy, vengeful ex-wives who were determined to humiliate and destroy you.

"Is it true?"

It was said so softly, so delicately, as if she knew the answer, didn't really want to know the answer but – false or truth – she needed to hear the answer directly from me.

I shook my head, not in denial but in declination. I knew what she would do with the disclosure. She would take this upon herself; she would take it on as another burden to carry; another problem to fix; another piece of corrosive damage she caused and needed to repair.

It was the last thing I wanted.

I took a deep breath, hoping for an even tone to my voice, convincing enough for me to hide behind. It helped that I wasn't looking at her. I could speak into the wind. "Olivia, I already have a shrink. I see him regularly. My problems have been discussed and rehashed over and over again. He helps me and that's the arrangement. That's…what I want. It's the only therapy and problem-fixing I need."

Even without seeing her, I could see her. She was shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She was trying to decide whether to stay or go; push or retreat; press forward or run away. For once, I wish she would just run, if only for tonight.

"It's getting late and I'm sure you're tired. You should just go." My second time giving her an out. There was still time; she could walk away. Nothing had been promised; no commitments had been made; no dreams had been fantasized and shared; nothing would be broken and the platonic, distant quasi-friendship we were experimenting with could be maintained.

"Fitz, look at me…..Look at me!"

XXX

It was only after the third time she demanded that I finally complied.

Her lips were quivering but she tried to brace up. Her plea earnest, "Please stop pushing me away….talk to me…please."

Her eyes were so intense, so searching. It was always her eyes; the way they could tear me down and build me back up; strip me bare and piece me back together again.

I steeled against her power over me. "No…I'm not discussing this with you. No, I….."

"You used to be able to tell me anything." She was offended yet she moved closer, away from the threshold. "We….we could talk about everything. Why can't we…."

"Because we aren't those two people anymore."

"Yes we are."

"No we aren't….too much has happened…too much has been changed. We aren't them."

"If we weren't those two people, Fitz, we wouldn't be standing here right now."

In a manner of speaking, she was right. At our core, we were still the same two people that fell in love on a campaign trail. Time, tragedy, chaos, turmoil and suffering had educated us, taught us wisdom and we adapted to change but – experienced and hardened by the cruel reality of our world – we had evolved but we were still who we were.

Yet, I said nothing. The words would not come.

"I know…I know you have already talked about this with your therapist and I'm certain that he helped you. But…I need to know Fitz. I need to know what happened to you while I was gone."

"You've tried to fix me before Olivia and that doesn't work. I'm not one of your clients. I don't have a problem to fix or a situation for you to handle. I am fine." I was stern. I wanted to shut this conversation down, now.

She was frowning; the stand-off had begun. I wasn't going to give in. I could wait her out. Eventually after several minutes of silence, when she knew I wouldn't cave in to her demands, she would give up. She would follow her normal pattern: pick up that designer purse, proclaim desperately, 'I've got to go' and disappear, fading from sight like a mist.

Minutes passed and yet she hadn't moved. Secretly, I was impressed. "Was it...was it because of me, of what I did?"

"There were a lot of things that happened before you left, after you left that we have all had to deal with in one way or another."

I hadn't learned how to separate myself from 'the event'; to speak of it in the third person as if I had been standing outside my body as an eyewitness. I remained connected to it; it still haunted me. To speak of it would send me back; awaken demons that I didn't want to fight – not again, not now.

"I get that you don't trust me Fitz…"

She paused, waiting to see if I had a reply, perhaps a rebuttal, but I didn't. If I were honest, I would have to admit that I didn't trust her. And maybe all this had been a test – a way for me to see what she would do if the situation got uncomfortable, if I pushed her away, would she run. Because the question still remained: One day would she decide this wasn't worth it; it was too hard; the payoff not substantial enough and I would look up and find that once again, she was gone – without a word.

"….and maybe it doesn't happen tonight, but at some point we are going to have to talk about it….There's just so much resentment, anger and guilt between us and it can't stay there. I want…I want a future with you – a real one. Not one built on pretend or tip toeing around the hurt; it's there and we need to deal with it."

"Why?"

Her head tilted in confusion. "Why, what? Why do we need to deal with it?"

"Why do you need to know what happened? Why can't you accept things as they are? You said you wanted to start fresh; a new beginning as friends…What happened in my life while you were gone is not your concern. You don't need to worry about it. It has nothing to do with you." My voice was clipped almost harsh.

Her tone changed to match my own. "So because I wasn't here, I'm not allowed to know what happened."

"It had nothing to do with you," I repeated the lie, knowing that neither of us believed it but not really caring whether it mattered. "You were gone living your life and I lived mine to the best of my ability. The moment you got on that plane you made the decision that you no longer cared what happened with my life and I'm choosing not to fill you in on it."

I simply did not want to share it with her. I didn't want to tell her about the hours I spent sitting in darkness trying to make sense of my life; trying to figure out who I really was and what was my purpose. The days my hands shook so violently that I could barely hold a pen to sign my name. The nights I gave up on trying to close my eyes afraid I would see Jerry's lifeless body staring back at me. Or the constant noise, whispering voices in my head, destructive chatter – Mellie's rape, Defiance, Verna, Teddy, James, Jake, Rowan, Jerry, Karen, Olivia - memories that unhinged me, sent me spiraling out of control between anger, desperation, paranoia and fear. A steady stream of cognitive sound, reminding me of every service performed at 'the pleasure of the President'; all the actions that were like quicksand at my feet, sinking me deeper and deeper into a quagmire of self-loathing. And all I wanted was the voices to stop, for the walls to stop closing in, to sleep in peace for a moment or perhaps forever.

If I shared it with her, she would have everything and I wasn't ready to give her that. I had no delusions; I knew she wasn't yet all in. How could she be when her relationship with Jake had not been completely severed? We didn't need to discuss it; I knew it and I understood. It was her own fears that kept him around. He represented a plan B for her; another card she kept holding in the event that we didn't work out. Her fear of being alone wouldn't quite allow her to let go of him and take the final leap, fully invested in us.

"So my punishment continues," she sarcastically concluded.

"I'm not…"

"Yes you are!...You are Fitz!...You are deliberately excluding me from a part of your life because you are still angry that I left."

"You made your choices and I made mine….If you can't take me as the man I am today then maybe we shouldn't do this." I walked past her back into the residence, a signal that I was done with the conversation. An ultimatum – the words even shocked me as they rolled off my tongue. For most of our relationship, I had been begging and pleading with her to wait for me, stay with me, love me; this shift was more than a little daring and slightly unnerving.

She, however, was far from done with speaking her mind. Ultimatums never sit well with people and she was no exception. Her anger rose several levels as she followed me back inside. "How long are you going to hold this over my head?...I made a decision for me!...For me!...I spent my life taking care of you and this fucking White House; sacrificing my happiness to keep you here. And for once, I needed to do something for me!...And you know what Fitz, I didn't owe you shit…I didn't owe you a reason, an explanation for leaving. I wasn't your wife. The only stake you had in my life was the one I allowed you to be in, the space I let you have!"

"You're right…you are absolutely right. You didn't owe me shit!" I forcefully threw the words back at her although I didn't believe them. In my mind, when you loved someone you owed them something; even if it was just a little part of yourself. If nothing else, we at least owed each other truth, honesty and respect. But apparently she didn't feel the same, so I cynically conceded the point in her favor. "You still don't owe me shit!...So, are we done here because it's late?"

I erected a defense against vulnerability; a mechanism to keep her from getting too close to what happened.

She blinked, insulted by my dismissal. Our anger was getting the best of us – clear evidence that the unresolved would not be miraculously healed no matter how much time had passed.

"Yeah I think we're done here," she shot back as she picked up her purse to walk out. Pausing at the door, she turned, completely spent, her eyes filled with unshed tears, her voice calm, "The love isn't enough, is it? It's not enough to cover over years of pain, heartache and mistrust, is it?"

Love should be enough, shouldn't it? It believed all things, hoped all things and endured all things, right? The tidal wave of emotions had waded, leaving nothing but self-reflection. "I always thought it would be. I thought…I was so damned certain that once we cleared away the obstacles that kept us apart, everything would fall into place. Everything would be…"

"Perfect," she sadly filled in. "But I guess this is a lot more complicated than we thought, isn't it?"

"Yes it is. I never thought it would be but it is. The love should be enough but…I don't know."

Her sigh was one that registered in my ears as defeat, "Yeah, I don't know either…Goodnight Fitz."

XXX

"What are you looking for?"

"I'm just..," Karen paused in her careful surveillance of the residence and pointed glances towards my bedroom door. She was looking for something or maybe someone. She finally turned to me and woefully admitted, "Mom called me last night."

I knew what that meant. _Fuck you Mellie,_was my first thought as I prayed for the ability to have a calm conversation with my daughter without projecting the rage I had for Mellie into the discussion.

"What did she say?"

"She was crying, hysterical really; going on and on about you humiliating her with other women. She said that you….well that you were sleeping with Olivia and that pretty soon Teddy would be calling her momma. She said that I needed to protect you because you don't know what you're doing with Olivia."

I was clinching my water glass so tight that it nearly shattered in my hand. It was a low blow, even for Mellie. With everything else Karen had to deal with, to put that extra burden on her was unforgivable.

Karen's face was filled with such confusion and worry that I felt my heart constricting. All I wanted Karen to focus on was her therapy, her studies and preparing for the Paris vacation she would be going on soon with her friends. Normal things girls her age should be thinking about. Instead, with one phone call Mellie created another typhoon of problems that would weigh on her mind.

It took a few moments of deep-breathing for me to redirect my attention from my bat-shit crazy ex-wife back to the caring daughter sitting in front of me.

"Were you expecting Olivia to come out of my bedroom?"

"Well I….I didn't know. Mom said she saw her here last night and I…I just didn't know."

"Karen, sweetheart…I am so very sorry that your mother has brought you in the middle of all of this. It's not fair to you and I don't want you to be worried about me. I am fine."

She didn't believe me; Mellie's poisonous words were too potent. "Mom has Andrew and I have Jonathan but you…you don't have anyone and I don't want you to feel alone or sad. I'll be leaving for Paris soon and college in the fall; I won't be here for you and I just…."

Karen had seen too much of my downward spiral and the depression associated with it. No matter how hard I tried to hide it, she saw the change in me and it scared her. I knew her ultimate fear was a reversion that would be worse than before because neither she, nor anyone else would be around to help.

My worse fear was my mistakes and vulnerabilities would hinder her ability to lead a happy, healthy life. It was important to me that she grew up and led a life that didn't require constant worry about the well-being of her father. It would devastate me to know that Karen was not able to become a productive member of society because of the traumatic residue of these White House years.

I could see her struggling to hold back her tears. "Come here sweetheart."

When I held her next to me, her head resting on my shoulder, I candidly explained, "I'm not lonely and I'm not sad. I divorced your mother because our marriage was not good for either of us. It did nothing but make us both miserable all the time. I needed this time to get myself together, to spend with you and Teddy, to be a better Father. And it has been good for me. I am happier now than I have been in a very, very long time.

"I'm sorry your mother said those things to you. But I need you to understand that I would never do anything to hurt you or Teddy or this family. You are my priority."

I could feel her nod against my chest but it wasn't the end of the conversation.

"Are you dating Olivia?"

"No. Olivia and I are friends. I've known her a long time and I care about her deeply."

"Why did mom say I needed to protect you from her?"

Mellie's parenting skills continued to frustrate me. She obviously had no qualms about using Karen as a pawn in her ridiculous games.

"It's complicated but some things happened in the past that caused a lot of pain to both Olivia and me. But Olivia is not trying to hurt me or this family; she cares about all of us."

She was breathing easier, evidently somewhat satisfied with my explanation. I was breathing easier too.

"There was an article post on Twitter calling you one of the most eligible bachelors of the year."

We both laughed at that – to her I was just Dad and to me, well I was just who I was. "That sounds kind of weird."

"Some of my friends and their moms think you're really cute. They keep asking when you're going to start dating….I think Michelle really likes you."

"Karen, I'm not…."

"I know Dad. I'm just saying, I think it's time. I think you should seriously consider it. I feel like you are putting your life on hold, maybe for me or Teddy or what you think Jerry would want. But we want you to be happy Dad…that's what we want."

_My baby girl._ To see the woman she was becoming was a privilege to behold. A smile of wistfulness and pride formed as I reflected on how chaos and turmoil could produce something so beautiful; it was beyond my comprehension, yet I was extremely thankful. I could suffer through a thousand lifetimes of pain and misery if it meant my children could be spared even a fraction of the tragedy life measured out.

"We'll see…"

Karen sighed. "…Which is usually the response parents give when they are done talking about a subject…You're a great catch Dad. You could have any woman you wanted, choose wisely though. No scandalous affairs, OK?" she censured playfully with a broad smile.

"Speaking of relationships, you and Jonathan…"

The playfulness was gone as Karen groaned and stood from the couch; resuming her previous place across from me. She transitioned between accusatory to desperate. "Jonathan said you had a 30 minute conversation with him in the Oval. Were you trying to scare him away Dad?...Do you know the kind of pressure that comes with dating your Boss' daughter, especially when your Boss is the President of the United States? Do you know how hard it is to get guys to like me for me, not just for the idea of hooking up with the President's daughter? Do you know how hard it is to see all your friends dating and being happy when you're all alone? Jonathan is different from the guys at school. He's…he's not just more mature but he see's me for who I am and I like who I am with him…Dad, please…please don't mess this up for me…Don't scare him away, please."

She had no idea how much I could empathize with her position – desperate to be loved for who you were, not what you were or what you could give. Her heartfelt, earnest plea struck me deeply; I could never dismiss them. Her feelings for Jonathan were not superficial, they were genuine and true. I would have thought she was too young to feel such things but who was I to judge her emotions. Despite Mellie's approval, my concern had always been their age difference; Karen wouldn't be 18 for another month. But my conversation with Jonathan served to allay my fears in a variety of ways.

"Karen, sweetheart, as your Father I will always do whatever is necessary to protect you. I know what you and your mom think but I am not, nor will I ever be, okay with a young lady your age dating someone older. It wasn't my intention to scare Jonathan away and if he scares that easily then maybe he's not the man for you…."

"Dad…" she began to contest.

"Let me finish…My conversation with Jonathan gave me certain assurances that made me comfortable with you both getting to know each other but that is all I will allow." It was true; I could see the qualities in Jonathan that attracted Karen. As of yet, there was nothing in his character that made me question his intentions. A shift in his duties would bring him closer to me and allow me to watch him for any signs that indicated otherwise.

Karen finally smiled, "Really Daddy?"

It never got old – putting a smile on your child's face. From the first time to the many times in between, it always left me with a sense of contentment that maybe I was doing something right.

"Yes….But until you turn 18, there will be limits. And one primary limit is that he will not be coming to the residence without my knowledge or permission. You are still my little girl and he is still a man. So those are the rules."

Her face fell slightly but she maintained her smile. I had no doubts that she would try to figure out a way to work around my rules and this discussion would be revisited again in the future.

XXX

"Turn it off….I need the room."

The monitors were switched off and person after person filed out of the room.

"Sir?" Cyrus questioned whether the demand for privacy included him.

It did. "I need the room Cyrus."

"Yes Sir."

Alone, I sat in the Situation Room watching the dark monitors. The images were gone, nothing remained. But they were clear, imprinted with a branding iron on my brain.

The smell of sweat and fear remained, permeating in the air. The hours spent here hoping for a successful outcome; watching and waiting for a victory that never came.

They were supposed to rescue her. The CIA assured me that they could get her out. But they failed. Well, in actuality they had not failed, I failed. It didn't matter that the mission details were flawed or the one detail they hadn't accounted for left them operating in the blind. It would be my fault; my error.

And as a result, a 21-year-old missionary worker, Jessica Thompson, had been killed, beheaded by a terrorist. The life of a young lady, not many years older than Karen - or Jerry would've been - who had selflessly joined her parents in bringing relief to those less fortunate in a foreign country had been used as a pawn in a plot devised by insane, bloodthirsty terrorists, intent on destroying the United States.

I could barely stomach it; the world as it was now; the choices and decisions, made years – decades and centuries earlier – that led us to this place. With all our advancements, achievements and brilliance, all it took was one act to remind me of how barbaric and uncivilized mankind could be.

I don't know how long I sat there; eventually it was the heat in the room that forced me out.

I wandered through the hallways, not yet ready to stand alone, back on that seal in the Oval. The same seal that symbolized the loneliness I felt; that had brought me to my knees many times before, collapsing under the crushing weight of it all.

"Fitz, are you OK?"

The voice jarred me and I looked around, not even realizing that I had walked to the far east lawn. I hadn't recalled making the conscious decision to come here.

I tried to smile in welcome but it wavered horribly. "Michelle, how did you find me?"

"You didn't come to the Oval so I asked around and…."

She seemed a little nervous approaching as if she had interrupted something and then I remembered, "Oh, I'm sorry, we had a meeting didn't we?...Forgive me, I was detained."

She relaxed a little and came closer. "It's fine, really. Considering everything that is going on, I half expected you to cancel."

My thoughts were still a bit clouded and some of what she said was being tuned out. I wasn't good company to be around and thought to tell her so.

"How are you? You don't have to talk if you don't want to. We could just walk, that is, if you want company. If you want to be alone that's fine too."

Her rambling made me chuckle. "I've never seen you nervous like this."

She smiled in return. "Well I've never been friends with a sitting President before and the reality of your job is hitting me like a ton of bricks."

One thing I appreciated about my conversations with Michelle is that she never tried to psycho-analyze me. I was concerned she didn't know how to switch it off and have a normal friendly conversation and in time, I was happy to be proven wrong.

"Yeah, you and me both…You would think, it being my second term, I could cope with it better but certain things never get any easier."

"What do you normally do? I mean to release the stress or relieve the pressure?"

One eyebrow raised, I answered easily, "Drink."

"Seriously?" Her innocence was refreshing. She had no idea of the man I had been or was. When it came to her, it seemed like I had a clean slate. I liked that.

"Yes, at least before."

She became silent as she looked away, pondering my response and what she would say next.

"It's killing you isn't it?" I teasingly asked.

"What?"

"Not being able to ask me more questions."

She laughed. "It is…I want to know a lot of things about you," she began but quickly quantified, "In a non-therapy sort of way."

That response gave me pause; there was a great deal about me she could never know. How would she feel knowing a murderer, adulterer, a deceitful, treasonous person stood before her?

"I'd be happier learning about you." It was a deflection and welcome distraction; certain to take my mind off things.

"Me? Really?...Well OK, that's a safe enough topic."

The distraction was therapeutic. We walked the grounds and I listened to her speak about her childhood, her parents, her schooling and her decision to become a mental-health doctor. Time went on and I had no inclination to rush her; whatever I had left at the office would wait. To get lost in someone else's normal life, to get caught up in their normal dreams, to see the vision of their normal goals being achieved warmed me; the cold reality of my world was momentarily melting away. It was an escapist pleasure that I allowed myself to entertain.

XXX

By the time we made it back, my mood had significantly lightened. I was thankful to Michelle for not pressuring me to discuss my feelings and being so open to share her life with me. I told her as much as we walked through the glass doors leading inside to the Oval.

"You're welcome Fitz anytime. You know I'm here whenever you need me."

I was about to respond when I realized we were not alone. Cyrus and Olivia had been waiting and neither looked pleased to see me coming in with Michelle by my side.

"Mr. President?" Cyrus began first, looking back and forth between her and I. Those two words carried a lecture of hidden meanings – all condemnatory. I restlessly sighed at the forthcoming chastisement and went to my desk.

Michelle detected the tension in the room and wisely announced, "Thank you Mr. President. I will talk to you later. Mr. Beene, Ms. Pope, have a good day." She quickly exited and I could feel my mood shifting yet again.

"We came to see how you were…It was a tough decision but no one could fault you for what happened. You did what needed to be done."

"I didn't actually need to make a decision. I just hid behind the same rhetoric and policy that was laid down before I got here 'We don't negotiate with terrorists'. And, while I appreciate you trying to comfort me, it is my fault and it will always be my fault. Everything stops with me."

"Sir, there was nothing else that you could have done."

"Yes I understand that but it doesn't make it any easier, does it?...It's OK Cy, it's fine, I'm fine." It was a lie wrapped up in a dismissal and absolvent of any further responsibility on Cyrus and he accepted it. He left the office.

She, however, would be different. She would never accept the cop out. She would dig deeper. I wasn't yet sure which response I appreciated more.

"I'm sorry if you've been waiting here a long time. I didn't expect you to come today."

"I thought…I thought that maybe you could use a friend; someone to talk to. But maybe I was…."

Her insecurity at seeing me with Michelle was coming into play and I didn't like it. "Stop, don't do that. Don't act like that."

She looked away but finally took the seat I offered on the couch, I sat opposite of her.

"How are you, really?" she asked.

"Today has been tough but, like everything else I'll get through it."

"What do you need? What can I do for you?" It sounded like the fixer coming out, although I knew she struggled to keep it at bay.

I shook my head. "Nothing…it's a casualty of the job. I'll call her parents tonight."

"Are you sure you want to?"

"I need to…I have to."

I waited patiently for her to speak again.

"Are you attracted to her?"

"No, not in that way…She's an attractive woman but I'm not interested in a romantic relationship with her."

She nodded in acceptance. "Is she attracted to you?"

I had to think for a moment. "I don't know…I guess so. I mean she has expressed interest in dating but I never took her up on the offer and we remained friends."

It was ironic. I wanted to inquire just as deeply about her and Jake but didn't. Their relationship went deeper and more complex; therefore I wanted her to offer the information to me. I wouldn't force it out of her. I had no problem speaking honestly and giving her the assurances of the true nature of my relationship with Michelle.

She remained focused on brushing some invisible lint off on her pants. "So….in addition to coming to the residence, she's very comfortable with being in the Oval and being with you."

This was new; the roles were reversing. I suppose I could have played it up, capitalize on jealousies and insecurities and work it in my favor. But frankly, I was too old for games. I didn't have the energy and didn't see the point of purposely hurting another person just to give me the upper hand.

"She's a friend, Olivia. Someone I could talk to and be comfortable around. That is all."

"Does she know about me?...Have you told her about us?"

"No, there's nothing to tell. You and I are friends. Besides, no one has asked...Well Karen asked..."

"Karen? What does Karen know? What does she think?"

Her eyes widened and she was near panic. I sought to relieve her anxiety by relaying the gist of my conversation with Karen. It may have calmed her a bit but it seemed to raise a different type of uncomfortableness.

"So Karen thinks I'm going to hurt you and she wants you to start dating." Her voice caught and she cleared her throat to stay her emotions. This was new territory for both of us and it wouldn't be easy muddling through.

"She knows you are not here to hurt me Olivia; that was just Mellie putting toxic thoughts in her head. Don't worry about it."

She wanted to accept my explanation but I knew it was a piece of information that she would store in her mind and mull over repeatedly. No assurances I gave would stop her from doing that; it was her nature.

"Why do I feel so lost in this, Fitz? Why do I feel like things are more complicated now than they were when you were married?"

"Because they are," I explained and her eyes widened, she expected a different response. Holding her gaze I leaned forward and continued, "Listen to me…I had been idealistic and unrealistic about us and how we work in the real world." I could hear Mellie taunting me with the words I refused to accept at the time but I forced the image out of my mind.

"I know that now. I have no doubts that if we do this, it's going to get hard; harder for you than for me. Even if we make it past all our baggage and personal issues and attempt to go at this publicly, it could damage what you have built for yourself. You are an amazing woman, Olivia, and the reputation and business you have built is phenomenal. I would be stupid to think that being with me wouldn't damage your business, affect your clientele, your livelihood. I tried it before and look what happened." We both smirked at the memory and although distant, I knew the wounds had barely had a chance to heal.

"You reminded me that no matter how this plays out, you will be the one taking all the hits. It's you the press is going to come after and not just professionally but personally. I'm barely getting past the drama my divorce caused. The press will certainly dredge it all back up if we go public. I can't guarantee that they won't find a way to lay that at your doorstep too. And it will not take much for them to uncover our past together…Can you truly say you are ready for that? Are we…am I, truly worth all that to you?"

It wasn't an easy question and I didn't expect a quick answer. She looked away but I could see the tears forming in her eyes. It wasn't anything she didn't already know but we had approached the proverbial fork in the road. It was no longer theory or hypothetical; it was fact.

I knew she wanted us to be together but the risk was high and the possibilities – good or bad – were just as exhilarating as they were terrifying. I didn't take offense. I understood the words she didn't say; the details behind the decision to be made.

"I'm halfway through my life and generally I don't know if what I'm doing is right until after I've done it all wrong. But I'm trying...I'm trying to do right by you Olivia."

I held my hand out to her over the table. When she finally looked back at me, she took it. Her hands were so small in my own; delicate fingers, manicured nails. The only ring she wore was the one I gave her years ago; the one she promised she would never remove, no matter what happened between us. When our hands joined, I swore it felt like together we could conquer the world; that we could be invincible – together. But it wasn't enough that I believed it, she had to believe it too. She had to be ready to go all in; no looking back, come what may.

"There will never be another woman that claims my heart like you do Olivia Pope. All of me, every part of me is in love with you and always will be. Whatever happens between us; whoever we become to one another that will never change."

XXX

I was running late and if Abby and Cyrus would stop talking, I could make my appointment with Dr. Manheim.

"Are you both done?"

They continued on as if they hadn't heard me, which I knew they had, but they were two bulldogs intent on making their point.

I put on my jacket and turned to Jonathan, who, in addition to his other duties, began assisting me from time to time. "I'm going to leave them two here to finish their cage match. I've got to go. If they ever come up for air, let them know I had an appointment."

"Yes, Sir…no problem…And Karen said to remind you that she's cooking dinner in the residence tonight and please don't be late."

"I got it," I mumbled before walking away. I knew Karen had another motive with this dinner but I kept my thoughts to myself, willing to let it play out.

After one knock, I entered the office set up for Dr. Manheim since my treatments began, "Sorry I'm late, I had…."

I stopped short when I realized who was in the office with him. Completely confused and slightly annoyed by not being given advance notice, I inquired, "Olivia, I had no idea you knew Dr. Manhiem. What are you doing here?"

"I didn't know him previously but Cyrus was kind enough to introduce us. I hope you don't mind."

It was kind of like the feeling you get when you walk into a room and you know just prior to your entrance, everyone was talking about you; and not necessarily in a good way. That feeling multiplied by a hundred.

Being introduced is one thing but sitting down for a therapy session or an in-depth discussion about me was another thing entirely. "OooooKayyyyy but I still don't understand…"

I remained frozen on the spot. Unsure of what awaited me if I came in any further. Olivia stood and walked toward me. "Fitz I've asked Dr. Manheim to see us both….as a couple. I know you have your own sessions with him and I'm not going to interfere with that but I think we need this too."

Couple? Were we a 'couple' now?

She looked hopeful and optimistic. This was a huge step for her; it wasn't her way to admit she needed help and seek it out in this manner. And to be willing to sit in front of a trained professional seemed so decidedly against her character that it threw me off kilter. I didn't know what to make of it. And, to be honest, I was a bit skeptical.

I didn't know why I wasn't more receptive to the idea, maybe it was still the shock of what was happening or maybe it was because I felt like this was a sort of sanctuary for me and me alone. A place that I selfishly didn't want shared with anyone, not even her. Or maybe I was afraid of the truths that would be uncovered once we both took a seat on that couch and committed to this arrangement.

I looked at Dr. Manheim who was peering at me over the rim of his glasses, in that perceptive way of his, where my every movement, even the number of times I blinked my eyes, was somehow telling him something about me psychologically.

He finally spoke. "Nothing has been decided yet Fitz. Why don't you sit down so we can discuss it?"

**(A/N: Hope you enjoyed. It's strange to have multiple stories in your head at once. It kind of makes me feel crazy:) Thanks for reading. Hope you have had a great week. BTW, I didn't see the latest Scandal episode but I have seen some very intense reactions going both ways. The thoughts are very interesting.)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

_**(Reminder: This story is told from Fitz's POV.)**_

It was a mistake. I thought it started the night my son died but I was wrong.

It had been happening for years. Pieces, fragments of the dream had been coming to me for quite a long time. But it was when all the scenes formed a single composite vision that I could recall it in completion; every single detail. And it came often, without warning and no clear identifiable cause, at least none that I could yet see.

Conscious, controlled recollection had a drastically different effect on me than the actual occurrence in my subconscious dream-state. No matter the familiarity, my sleep would still be disturbed to the point that I would awake shocked, chilled and drenched in sweat.

The falling, the sinking, the drowning; the faces of people in my life – past and present – standing, watching, gloating over my destruction; refusing to offer aid. The suffocation came slowly as the mocking laughter grew louder, vibrating through the surrounding sea.

And in the end, it was the same haunting voice – Her voice. _You must learn to save yourself__._

I sat numbly, allowing the dream to distract me from current events. Not even bothering to figure out why it had suddenly appeared in my mind now.

My silence was suspicious and, judging by Dr. Manhiem's repeated glances in my direction, perceived as uncooperative, even hostile.

Shifting uncomfortably on the couch, it was obvious that I did not want this.

Their conversation flowed effortlessly; it was casual and friendly. I tuned out most of the words but their tone was more than congenial. She laughed; he laughed in response. She charmed him and, in return, he was captivated, as most men were when she gave them her full, undivided attention.

Several times she spoke my name but not in any context directed toward me or requiring my participation in the discussion. My presence was ignored. They could continue to talk amongst themselves without the slightest concern for my mental distance. It was irritating and I retreated further, like a bystander caught between the need to get away and the urge to witness a disturbing event.

_This was wrong; all wrong_.

I blinked rapidly, finally realizing why my defenses erected and remain impenetrable. She was here, present and eager for therapeutic aid but it was for me; only me, not her. The conversation concentrated on my need for analysis and aid; my need to be fixed. She was here to contribute her thoughts on _my_ therapy; another method she could employ to save me.

_This was wrong; all wrong. _

I cleared my throat and stood abruptly; my eyes focused on Dr. Manheim as I rudely interrupted whatever else she was going to say.

"We need to do this another time. There's another appointment I have to get to." My voice was firm, almost harsh. They both knew I was lying but neither of them would challenge me.

And with no further words, no acknowledgement or farewell to her, I left the room. I walked away wondering if their discussion of my failings and shortcomings would continue more freely since guarded words were no longer necessary. I tried to pretend I didn't care but suddenly I felt betrayed by Dr. Manheim and by her.

I had been doing this alone, without her, and I was handling my life just fine. The hours and hours I spent in therapeutic self-reflection were for a purpose; I had learned to _'save myself'_.

I never asked for praise or commendation for what I should've done in the first place but dammit I had done it! However means she thought she could aid Dr. Manhiem in my recovery was not welcomed or needed and frankly, I found her implied offer insulting.

XXX

Four places were set for dinner – four, not two.

I arched an eyebrow at Karen as she set the last water glass on the table. "You didn't say we were expecting guests. I thought you were cooking dinner for me."

She smiled brightly and kissed me on the cheek. "It is for you Daddy…It's just for two other people too."

Before I could ask more questions about the identification of our guests, the doorbell rang. "Could you get that please?" she asked before scurrying back to the kitchen.

The anxious feeling of some kind of impending disaster came over me and I hoped this wasn't some attempt to get Mellie and I to make amends; to end what Karen half-jokingly termed 'The Grant War'. I kind of liked being at war with Mellie; it meant significant periods of time where she stayed away. Of course, she was likely somewhere planning her next attack but there was nothing I could do about that. All I could do was wait for her vengeance to resurrect itself, while taking advantage of the brief respites in between.

When I opened the door and saw her standing there, I froze. I may have smiled; I tried to smile but the unexpected surprise left me a little shaky.

"I almost cancelled; I tried to cancel but Karen was insistent." She was apologetic and I realized I had given her the impression that I didn't want her here.

"I'm glad you came," I said as I ushered her inside, practically jerking her arm in the process. The enthusiasm was genuine and I hoped she felt it.

She had a gift in her hand, which I knew was for Karen; it was a nice gesture and I was about to remark on it when she asked, "Can we talk somewhere….private?"

"Uh…sure."

Without hesitation, I led her to my bedroom and shut the door behind us.

"You….you changed everything in here. What happened?"

I looked around; pretending the change in décor was new to me too. I shrugged it off casually and gave a round-about explanation, "Oh I had been doing a little bit here and there but I decided I wanted everything gone and replaced; make it look and feel like a completely different place."

It didn't really answer her question. The answer was more intimate than I cared to share at the moment. I honestly couldn't imagine sharing this room – that bed – with her, knowing that it had once belonged to Mellie. I wanted to burn it down and start over but it wasn't technically my house so the changes I could make were limited.

It may have been a little arrogance on my part to assume that we would eventually share a bed but being the people we were and the intensity of our attraction, it pretty much seemed like a forgone conclusion.

The slight blush she tried to hide was a clear indication that she knew the real reason anyway.

She took a deep breath and shook her head to re-focus her thoughts. The blank stare returned. I could only imagine the regret she felt over what happened in Dr. Manheim's office. She may have had good intentions but it obviously had not turned out as she planned. Apologies were always very difficult for her; admitting she was wrong would take some effort.

Likely, it would help if I started talking first.

"Olivia….about what happened at Dr. Manheim the other day…I know, I know you thought you were trying to help me but I was serious when I said I didn't need your help for that. I don't. Understand me when I tell you I'm not the same man I was before you left. I've changed…I've grown; my issues are my own and I can deal with them fine. I know you have this….need….to Save everyone, to make people feel completely dependent on you for one reason or another. You are used to having people feel like they can't survive without you. But I don't want that between us. If we are together, it's because we truly love each other and want to build a life together."

My voice was calm and soothing. I ended with a warm smile that told her I bore no hard feelings. It was a lesson learned and we could move on. I was not going to press her for an apology but I hoped my understanding words were enough of a motivation should she care to give it.

XXX

Her features hardened. She blinked in disbelief and the humorless chuckle was mocking. "You have no idea what you want do you?" she accused.

It was not the response I was expecting. The question chaffed; I frowned. Those words applied to her, not me. I knew exactly what I wanted. I've always known what I wanted.

"You could have saved us both a lot of time Fitz if you were honest with me and with yourself. All this "don't handle me", "don't fix me", "don't save me" is just bullshit. It's all bullshit!"

That struck a nerve. I had no idea why she was angry but she wasn't going to blame whatever this was on me. "Like you've never done it before?! Shit….you've been doing it since we got together and you haven't changed. No matter how many times I ask you not to do it, you still do it."

"I am not doing that to you!...I…"

I wouldn't let her explain. I needed to get my point across and she was going to hear me. "Then what was that in Manheim's office?!...That was you coming in trying to figure out what's wrong with ME and what you can do to fix it. Instead of allowing me to share my life, my thoughts with you on my own, you inserted yourself, without my permission on my private sessions. And then you pretend it's for us. You weren't doing it for us, you were doing it for you!... Admit it, the more broken I am, the better you feel; the more you have to fix. You can't stand the fact that I don't need you like that!"

My voice was louder than necessary but I had already tried the gentle approach and she didn't appreciate it, so maybe she could finally get the point now.

She took a deep breath and her eyes blazed in renewed anger. "Did you ever for once just stop and think…for one moment did it cross your mind that I was prepared to talk to him about ME; that I finally felt comfortable opening up my life, sharing the things we can't talk about with anyone or we'd both be in jail. That I felt like I could trust him with my life because YOU trusted him?!

"Did you even consider that I WANTED you to be there when I shared the things I've never told anyone, ever….that I trusted you enough to be there beside me; to learn everything about me! That I NEEDED YOU there because I was scared; I was afraid of what I would say and how he would react. I NEEDED YOU FITZ!

"And you walked out…you just walked out, without a word to me or him. And you haven't not one time tried to explain yourself to me. I still had to come to you about it and when I did, you tell me it's my fault for trying to fix you again?! What the fuck is that!"

This time I blinked in disbelief, not at her words but at myself. Her chest was heaving; breathless from the scathing words. She needed me. There was a sensitivity and vulnerability to her words; communicating the high level of trust she placed in me; a faith that had nothing to do with who I was professionally and everything to do with who I was to her personally. It was a commitment of honesty.

I never gave her the benefit of the doubt. I just assumed the worse. I hadn't stopped to think; my defenses rose immediately at the possible exposure of weaknesses and insecurities I thought I conquered, fearful that she may uncover them. I was so determined to show her the stronger version of myself; to be a better man. One she wouldn't feel responsible for but one she would feel proud to love.

It was a foolish rush to judgment. She was committing and I was putting up obstacles.

She threw her hands up in frustration. "I….I feel like you're testing me Fitz. You're pushing me in all these different ways just to see how I will react; you're making up things in your mind about me like….like you're just waiting for the moment when I fail you, fail us. And I don't like it. This….will go nowhere if you keep acting like this."

She was right. I kept pushing her into corners, offering opportunities for her to get out, walk away, while wanting her to stay. I felt a moment of panic at the idea that she could give up on me, that somehow her faith in me could be shaken. I was exhausted; weary from fighting with her, with myself and not being able to see my way through it.

A timid knock came to the door; recognition that we weren't alone and the entire conversation may have been overheard.

"Dad….Liv, are you alright? Dinner is getting cold."

XXX

"Are you tired?...Ready to go home?" Her eyebrows rose as she recognized the loaded questions with unrevealed prospects.

I wanted her to say "No"; I hoped she would stay with me just a little longer. Dinner had been nice but I only had a moment to whisper a sincere, contrite "I'm sorry" in her ear before we joined Karen and Jonathan. We shared a look conveying an agreement to set our issues aside for their sake. Neither of us wanted to ruin what Karen had taken the trouble to plan.

And the evening went smoothly; conversation flowing in every direction with no hint of unease or hesitancy. As the hostess of the small, intimate gathering, Karen beamed.

Perceptive as ever and without question, she knew the woman I would want sitting beside me, at my right hand; the woman I wanted to share my life with. And she approved of my choice.

Her relationship with Olivia had apparently deepened without my knowledge or encouragement. They had developed that unspoken language of communication through slight gestures and eye movements that women with a definable level of familiarity sometimes share.

The dinner ended but I couldn't let Olivia go home; she couldn't leave with things unsettled as they were. The tension in our body language pulsed, driven to find a resolution. I insisted on personally seeing her home; an agent trailed behind us, driving her car. But even as we set in the back of the car, secluded in the privacy we needed, I had no idea how to begin – what to say or what to do. So we sat in thick, uncertain silence, far apart, her face turned to stare at the passing lights until I posed the questions.

At my hopeful expression, she gradually smiled in acceptance. "What did you have in mind?"

XXX

There were many, many things that a President of the United States could not do. And one of the most regrettable was an inability to make spontaneous plans. Numerous times, over the course of our relationship, the inadequacies of my position created varying degrees of frustration; tonight was one of them. She picked up on the shift my mood, as she always did, and the warmth of her hand now holding mine told me that everything – whatever I planned, however means it would finally be executed – was alright.

To their credit and my appreciation, the Secret Service agents worked fairly quickly to secure the location. And when we finally exited the vehicle and started our midnight stroll in the botanical gardens, I felt all the uncertainty and tension leave me at once. I held her close and her arm came around my waist.

We walked in silence – no longer apprehensive but reflective – admiring the beauty of the forest around us and the gravity of the moment. After seven years - seven long, tumultuous, devastating years - we were here; in the same time and space, under the same moonlit sky. We could breathe at the same pace, in the same pattern, undisturbed and completely in sync. We were together and we were free.

"Is this our first date?" she asked, her head lying on my shoulder, after we took a seat on a bench beneath a covered archway. There was a teasing lilt to her voice but there was also a smile of excitement.

I hadn't planned this to be our first date. I looked around again and no matter how beautiful our surroundings were, this event still seemed insufficient. It wasn't good enough to be a first date. I wanted more for her; she deserved more.

I could've planned a flight to Paris and a declaration of love on top of the Eiffel Tower or a dinner at sunset on a beach in Tahiti; something she would never forget. Something…..

She answered the question herself. "It's perfect."

We moved closer– taking advantage of the nearness of each other and appreciating the beauty of time, endurance and perseverance. It was dark, over hanging lamps gave minimal light but we weren't hiding – not anymore. We were free to do whatever we wanted, be whomever we wanted. And I allowed my mind, for the first time since she returned, to envision a future - together.

XXX

As I stepped over the threshold, a wave of something hit me and I felt choked. The front door clicked and I was caged, trapped.

In one moment, it all changed and I couldn't understand why. I had been here before; the surroundings were familiar and nothing had changed. It was the same as it always had been.

It only took a minute for me to remember and my stomach dropped.

"What's the matter?" she asked with overwhelming concern. I could only imagine how I appeared to her but I couldn't disguise it. I broke out in a cold sweat; I felt sick.

I hadn't moved from where I stood. She invited me to sit down but my legs wouldn't work. I had to leave as soon as possible before I embarrassed myself. "Uh…thanks but I really should be getting back?" I gave her a small smile but my hoarse voice told her something was wrong. "Have a good night."

My hand was on the door knob; my escape imminent.

"You came here….while I was gone. You came here."

My shoulders tensed at her discovery but I didn't deny it. "I did."

"I saw your letter…when I got back."

That brought me up in surprise. Before this moment, I hadn't recalled it. But I had written her something that night; that horrible…horrible night. What had it said? I had been drinking, half out of my mind with grief, regret and pain. I had no idea what I wrote to her.

I looked at her over my shoulder. "I…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here that night. I was….wrong."

She came closer and removed my hand from the door knob evidently not ready to release me from my torment. She kept hold of my hand, forced me to look at her and gently asked, "Why did you come here?"

Wasn't it obvious? Why did she need me to say it out loud? I regretted not moving faster to get out of the door.

I hated everything about that night; the weakness of my character reflected in the man I was when I came here. I hated the desperation that reeked all over me. I hated the angry tears that came against my will when I walked in and realized the truth – she was gone.

The love of your life – to say those words and really feel them means that the person is so deeply ingrained within you, so much a part of who you are that when they leave, a part of you, the very best part, leaves with them.

That night, I walked into her empty apartment and sat in the darkness, allowing, waiting for it to consume me; to make me feel nothing; numb that part of my soul that held her safe, close to my heart. For however long, I stared at nothing. She was my light and it faded. The void caused by her absence was too large, too heavy to bear and the pain of it led me to unspeakable thoughts and actions.

Dr. Manheim and I had discussed that night in detail, leaving me resigned to my actions. Gradually, I had to find a way to be whole again, without her. I came to realize that by her choice, we could be parted forever. It may have been easier if she were dead to me but I could not dishonor her in that way. She would continue to exist somewhere in the world, happy, content and fulfilled. And I would find a way to be satisfied with that, knowing she was never truly mine to have and simply to be thankful for the time she allowed me to be with her.

It was just a room; the same apartment but it affected me differently. It represented something else now; a feeling that unexpectedly came rushing back in full force tonight.

She was waiting for an answer and I gave her the best one I could provide. "I needed to see for myself; to know for sure that you were gone."

It was the truth; the succinct version. I don't know if I would ever have the courage to discuss the humiliating details of that night with her; the few details I could recall. My emotions were too invested and I doubted I could find the words to give her a sensible explanation. My own mind still struggled with making sense out of it.

She stared up at me; looking through me. She could read me well; she knew there was much I hadn't said. Yet she nodded in acceptance. She didn't push, in fact, she smiled. She was patient. She didn't need to understand fully what I was feeling but she would wait until it passed; until the fear and hesitation subsided and the truth to take over again. And gradually, as the grip intertwining our fingers tightened, it did.

I had a fear of being forced to explain; that our agreement for honesty required my full disclosure. I couldn't give that to her, yet, but it wasn't necessary. Maybe there are some things we could never really know about each other; a secret place that we hide things about ourselves that no one could ever know. A darkness in thoughts or actions that were too shameful to be said aloud to those we love.

What had I written in that letter? I was too embarrassed to ask. And I counted it as a kindness that she didn't ask for an explanation of whatever she read there.

"Let's watch the sun rise," she suggested, still holding my hands captive to prevent me from leaving. But I no longer had any desire to leave.

Sitting on the couch, we eased into each other's embrace, sighing in contentedness. I couldn't see her face but I could feel her smile. To be able to touch her, hold her without the looming sadness of an inevitable hasty departure; that the dawning of a new day would not bring the agony of unwanted separation; a flight back to the pretense of a shallow unhappy life and counting the minutes, seconds until I saw her again.

It would be hours before the sun rose but we no longer felt the pressure of rushed encounters; time was no longer an enemy. The silence that used to damn us with the judgment of past mistakes was no longer. The light was emerging; the darkness was fleeting and in its place was peace.

XXX

"Do you ever pray?"

It was an odd question but, on second thought, not really considering where we were.

The ceremony had been beautiful. Abby was a gorgeous bride; she and David made a perfect couple. On the many occasions I witnessed their interactions, I was impressed with the balance in their personalities and the love was obvious, evident for all to see.

Not that I paid much attention to the bride and groom. I was distracted by the gorgeous maid of honor and I couldn't help but stare at her as the vows were read. I wondered whether she ever thought of marriage. I spoke of it frequently but those were dreams, this was reality. She never allowed herself to fully entertain the idea which was understandable considering our circumstances but now, did she want that? With me?

She found my eyes during the ceremony and gave me a small smile. She knew my thoughts, I didn't know hers.

The services were over but instead of following the crowd to the reception site, she hesitated and without being asked, I stayed with her. She didn't seem to be in a rush to leave but sat next to me on the pew in the now empty church, thinking.

"I do."

"I…I do too," she paused and I could see her frown in concentrated thought. "I've made bargains with God but I'm not sure if he heard me. I'm not sure if he's ever listened to me."

I had no response to this. I felt unqualified to give her the assurance of God's presence. Was that why she wanted to talk here? Where she was sure God heard? I waited for her to explain what she meant, concern for her gnawing within me at her solemn words.

"I killed him," she whispered, so low that it was barely audible. She breathed deeply; her body releasing a weight that held her captive for so long.

"What?" I couldn't have heard her correctly but I was afraid that I had. I turned to her in time to see a single tear trail down her face.

She cleared her throat and sat up straighter. Her voice was firmer as she repeated, "I killed him. I killed my father."

Watery doe eyes turned to me now, looking for a sign of horror or rejection. When she found none, she closed her eyes and breathed deeper, easier, allowing more tears to fall.

"Tell me," I said gently. If she had chosen this time and this place, then all she needed was the invitation to speak freely, without condemnation or repercussions.

As she had told me before, she did not know her father had killed my son until she returned. Jake and Rowan chose to tell her at the last minute, when they knew he was dying. Her reaction, though, was not as accepting as she had initially led me to believe. And it was her anger; her need for justice that led her to enter his hospital room and end his life prematurely. It didn't matter that he would die soon, in her opinion, he didn't deserve to linger; the gift of life was no longer his. She had taken it away.

"I think he knew. As soon as I walked through the doors, I could tell…his eyes. And they never left me, the entire time. It was only when I was sure he was gone, that I closed them. I think he wanted it and he wanted me to do it. And that angered me even more because he knew what it would do to me; he knew the burden I would carry forever."

"Oh Livvie, I'm sorry." I was apologizing for a lot of things; for circumstances that led her to do it; for a lifetime of manipulation and deceitfulness and for the extreme unfairness of not being able to choose our parents. She accepted my handkerchief with a wavering smile.

There was something else, another reason, I could see it in her shifting eyes but I accepted the reason she gave.

"Why?...Why did you choose to tell me?" Not that I wasn't thankful that she trusted me enough to share the secret. But she could have taken the knowledge to the grave, no one would ever know, right?

She gave me a look that told me my conclusion was wrong. "Jake knows." Two words said with a mixture of fear, regret and anger. It translated into leverage; Jake now had something to hang over her head for as long as he wished to. He had knowledge that could be used to crush her, ruin her life and destroy her. Would he use it? She must have thought he would.

But he hadn't. In the year since it happened, he hadn't done anything to indicate he would. But admittedly there were still details of their relationship that I didn't know and I had no idea what he would do if, or when, it became known that we were a couple.

I pulled her into my arms and held her tightly. She wept – harder than I ever heard her weep before. The confession could cleanse her, give her some sense relief; the first step in finding acceptance and forgiveness.

She must have tried to forget, burying her father's death six feet under, hidden, weighed down by piles of earth. But it would never really go away. It would always be a part of her, deep in her bones, rising up at the worse moments. She considered it a matter of fairness, justice – _a life for a life_ – but the consequences of remembered sins were long-reaching and everlasting.

I had a quick flash of the look on her face at her father's funeral. She wanted to tell me then, I could see that now. And I could understand the guilt, overwhelming, almost crippling, of standing at the funeral, honoring the person killed in the strength of your bare hands. Hands reflecting back at you every day, reminding you of the power to create and destroy. Verna Thornton was never far from my thoughts.

I would've taken the burden from her if I could, shelter her from the consequences of a tortured mind but I knew from experience that the painful recovery from the trauma would have to be accomplished alone. I could only be her support, her anchor to reality, her encouragement to press on through the journey.

_You must learn to save yourself. _ The words echoed in my mind; tempered by the sobering remembrance of her words - _"I needed you Fitz!...And you walked out…you just walked out" - _in a voice broken with disappointment.

I made a promise to myself, a silent oath that I would never abandon her again – no matter what happened to us or against us. I would be there, always.

I hoped it would enough. I hoped _I_ was enough.

I was praying now. _Dear Lord, Let me be enough_.

XXX

I wanted to take her home, I thought she needed rest but she had the presence of mind to recall her Maid of Honor duties at the reception. Besides, she needed a distraction from her thoughts.

We were both distracted at the reception. Speeches to give, toasts to make, conversations to be had, and pictures to take – tasks that kept us both occupied for most of the night.

But eventually we found our way to each other, on the dancefloor. We had danced before, on a couple of occasions. And we were always careful, conscious of the attention of others; the space between us wide enough to give the appearance and assurance of a platonic relationship.

The first dance went according to that same routine. We didn't decide upon it beforehand, we kind of fell into the pattern. But somewhere between the first and second dance, we both realized that this time was different. We lost the inhibitions that came with fear of disclosure. And we moved closer and closer still until we were pressed against each other and I held her as I always wanted to; as I always meant to.

We knew people stared; the whispers of gossip floated in the air but we heard none of it. We knew what this would mean and there would be time enough to figure our way through but not now.

An urgency arose within me that I had either repressed or ignored until now. I needed her, completely. I needed her naked in my arms, rising above me, lying beneath me, I didn't care. I needed to wake up to her in the morning. I needed all of it. I could no longer wait and I prayed to God she was ready.

Suddenly her skin felt heated, flushed, like molten fire and I convinced myself that she felt it too. There was a flicker of doubt but I pushed it aside. I pulled her closer, inhaling her fresh, sweet scent and hardened in response. My control was vanishing with each passing minute.

I leaned down and whispered in her ear, "Come home with me Livvie."

It wasn't a question. I was bold enough to make the demand and I dared her to say 'No'.

**_(A/N: For anyone still reading this story, thank you for your continued interest and patience. I got a few messages asking whether I was going to continue this story and I am. I have the ideas of where I want the story to go and it will last several more chapters. My goal was to do more chapter updates for all my stories this summer. And I hope to reach that goal at some point. I won't give up trying. Thanks again for sticking with me. Hope you enjoyed the update. Have a great week.)_**


	11. Chapter 11

_**(Reminder: This story is told from Fitz's POV)**_

**Chapter 11**

"Daddy."

"Daddy."

"Daddy."

Sharp elbows poked at my chest and little hands were pulling at my face, pinching my cheeks, trying to force my eyelids open. I groaned, fighting against the daylight; something in my dreams was clinging to me, wanting to drag me back under.

Then a sudden click of realization hit me and my eyes opened, going wide, shifting to scan my surroundings, landing on my son's smiling face. "Daddy!" he beamed in delight at my wake. Still a bit dazed and groggy from sleep, I couldn't quite focus on him.

Blinking rapidly, adjusting to the unwelcome light streaming relentlessly through the windows and glass doors, I knew it was the morning of a new day but didn't yet comprehend what that meant.

A low throb in my head reminded me that I had too much to drink last night. I closed my eyes again, trying to give my head and body another minute to come into agreement and decide they were ready to face the day together.

Then I remembered. Last night. Last night. My eyes popped open again. "Shit!"

I sat up quickly and turned my head to the other side, a bolt of sharp pain came but I ignored it. The bed, the space beside me, her space, her side was empty; crumpled sheets with a vacant space. She was gone.

Dropping back against the pillows, I stared blankly at the ceiling. It was the morning of a new day with new possibilities, or so I thought. What had I expected? That she would be here in the morning; that she would stay? That she would actually want to be with me? It was stupid and I chastised myself for hoping.

The tendency to be angry was gripping me hard but I was determined to master it. That familiar ache of her absence was making a home in my chest but I struggled to push it down in favor of more calm, rational thoughts.

My living arrangements weren't exactly ideal for a non-marital relationship. This was still the White House; she couldn't easily come and go without someone seeing her. Did she anticipate a feeling of shame at that reality? Perhaps she was being wise; she had gotten up early and left before anyone noticed. As usual, she was thinking ahead. It was the right thing to do. Still, I couldn't deny my disappointment.

I glanced over to her side looking for a note, some kind of endearment to ease my mind; to assure me that she didn't just walk away without a word as if last night and what had been happening for the past few months was meaningless but nothing was there.

Teddy had jumped off the bed and was running around the bedroom with Hank, our dog, fast on his heels. The sound of his voice, his giggles, reminded me that this was Sunday. We always spent Sundays' together. The decision was made: I couldn't lay in bed all day regretting, thinking, questioning, and wondering. I had to get up.

"Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit," Teddy sang gleefully around the room, excited by the new word he learned from me.

"Teddy," I said groaning as I stood and wrapped a sheet around my waist. Muscles popped in my back and arms, releasing the stiffness in my body – another jolting reminder of the physical exertion during our time together.

"Teddy, that's not a good word and Daddy is very sorry for saying it. So we won't say it again. OK?"

"We can't say 'shit' anymore?" he asked with pleading eyes and a clear indication that he wanted to say the forbidden word again very badly, as children did when they picked up on something that should not have been said in their presence.

"No we cannot say that word anymore," I said more firmly. I could smell food cooking; Marta had already started on our Sunday breakfast. I usually cooked it but I was slow going this morning and appreciated the help. "Ask Marta to help you turn on the TV while Daddy gets dressed."

"I can do it! I know how to turn on the TV," he insisted.

"OK but ask her to help you find your favorite TV show OK?"

"OK Daddy but hurry OK."

I watched him leave and looked around the bedroom for the first time. It felt bare and hollow; I could almost imagine that she had never been here.

XXX

I was moving mechanically, doing things by habit, not really paying attention to anything except the images playing in my head of everything we said and did last night. I could still hear the faint echoes of her "I love you"s in my ear and the certainty I felt in knowing she was saying it not with just words but with her body and her heart. The sounds of her pleasure were as audible and vibrant as if she was on display right now before my eyes.

By the time I finished dressing, I couldn't decide if I was disappointed, angry or regretful; maybe it was all three. But whatever I felt, I had to shake it off. My son was waiting for me to start the day with him.

"Thanks Marta for getting breakfast started…." I called out as I left my bedroom to join Teddy at the breakfast table.

It wasn't Marta who answered me.

"You still like waffles…." She said with a teasing smile, knowing she was the last person I expected to see.

"Daddy….Livia made waffles!" Teddy announced excitedly with syrup spread all over his mouth and fingers.

"I, uh….yes I can see that," I spoke abstractedly as if unbelievable things were happening around me and although my mind welcomed them, I still couldn't quite grasp the reality of it. Dumfounded, my eyes followed her as she plated food, set it on the breakfast table and poured coffee. I just stood there, grounded by the image of her comfortable in my home, moving naturally in my kitchen, trying to stop Teddy from giving waffles to the dog – as part of my family.

"Are you going to join us Fitz…the food gets cold fast."

I blinked at the invitation and finally found my footing. Impulse gripped me and before sitting down, I couldn't resist the temptation and surprised her with a full, deep, kiss. "Thank you," I whispered against her lips before releasing her and taking a seat at the table.

Still a bit caught up in the moment, I didn't remember that we had an audience until I heard Teddy say, with more than a little disgust in his voice, "Ella says boys kiss girls when they want them to take off all their clothes….Is Livia gonna take off all her clothes for you, Daddy?"

I didn't dare look at Olivia but I could feel the heat of her embarrassment, which was more than equal to mine. It struck me that Teddy had never seen any type of genuine affection between his mother and I. Sadly, he wasn't the product of a loving relationship; he had been the pawn in a political game.

I made a mental note to talk to Cyrus about the source of his daughter's knowledge of male-female relationships.

"Eat up Bud so we can get going."

The change in subject didn't bother him at all. In fact, he squealed in happiness, "We going to Disneyland today Daddy….Disneyland….Disneyland…Disneyland!"

His joy was infectious; Olivia and I laughed. "Not today Bud. We go to Disneyland in a few weeks remember. We'll get on a plane and go see Mickey Mouse."

As children had very little concept of time, my answer didn't damper his enthusiasm. As long as he was sure we were going at some point, it was more than enough to satisfy him.

"Would you come with us?" asking her to join us seemed the natural thing to do; without thought I responded to the urge to include her in every aspect of my life. I felt a stab of panic wondering if she would think it was too much too fast but I couldn't take the words back now.

"To Disneyland…in California?" her eyes widened at what she considered unthinkable. And then I could see her trying to settle the idea, roll it around in her mind, doing a mental checklist of all the in's and out's, pros and cons; calculating the risks of the excursion.

I shifted in my chair, trying to curb any irritation at her reluctance. One day soon, we would be able to do whatever we wanted; come and go, public or private, either with careful planning or in spontaneity, as we chose.

"Yes…we're going to California in a couple of weeks. It's work but a family vacation too. I'm asking you to come with us."

We hadn't been in California together since the campaign trail. There were a lot of memories in California and I suddenly remembered something she told me all those years ago. "You've never been to Disneyland…I'm taking you to Disneyland."

XXX

"The pictures of you and Teddy at the National Air and Space Museum today were wonderful. It's all over the news." It was a compliment but I could tell there was underlying censure there also.

"I wasn't going to set it up as a photo op, Olivia. If someone got a picture, so be it but I'm not turning family outings into press opportunities." The words came out sharply, a little harsher than I intended and I thought I may have offended her but by the time I came back from putting Teddy to bed, she was handing me a beer.

She didn't come with us to the museum. She declined, saying she had work to do and would meet me back at the residence later. I didn't push it and in hindsight, it was probably a good idea being that photos of her with us would have likely appeared as well.

"You do know that I can turn it off right?" she asked as she sat next to me, with her own glass of wine. I knew what she meant; it was the fixing, the handling dilemma again.

My answer was a questioning eyebrow. "One of the things we have in common Fitz is politics. We talk about it often because it interests us. It's not me being Cyrus or Mellie; it's not always about me being a fixer; it's me, Olivia, being interested in you."

I knew I overreacted and sighed. "I know, I'm sorry."

"You want to talk about last night and this morning," she concluded. She could read my tension, my questions and uncertainty. This was the first time all day we had the privacy for the conversation that needed to happen.

"I thought you left."

"I had Abby's wallet…My phone kept going off and when I finally picked up, she told me. So I had to leave to take it to her. She couldn't go on her Honeymoon without it. I did leave...but then I came back."

I laughed, more at myself than anything. "And I slept through all of that?"

She laughed too. "Yes…yes you did. I think you're getting old."

"Or a little out of practice."

"Not from what I've heard…Do you know how many women the tabloids have linked you to, since your divorce?…And a few even before your divorce."

Smiling into my beer, I remained quiet on the subject. I didn't think we were at the stage to talk about that, not now. I hadn't been entirely abstinent in her absence but I knew she hadn't lived as a nun either.

"Anyway," she began pointedly, letting me know that she was aware of my evasion, "it didn't seem like you were out of practice. Not judging by what we did in that limo…You got someone to clean that up right?"

I almost spit out my beer from laughing. It felt good to talk with her like this. This was how I remember her; how I remember us. A long time ago, we could talk about sex, about love, about anything; as comfortable as best friends. It was nice to feel that starting to come back again.

"Thank God you're very flexible."

"I have a Pilates trainer. I can move my body in all sorts of positions."

I stared with open admiration. "I can tell…your body has always been amazing." Her blush was shy but cute.

She had a body that was meant to be worshipped devotedly. It was pagan but applicable; she was like a goddess, sexual altars were only one of many ways to praise her.

Many times I came home alone to a roaring fire, lit by a thoughtful housekeeper. I took it for granted, never giving it much thought. But last night, I thanked God for the firelight that illuminated every inch of her skin; casting warm sparks of yellows, oranges, reds and golds as ornaments to create an ethereal glow.

It was impossible to forget her beauty but I was afraid that time would remove the memory of her skin; the way it felt under my hand – so smooth and soft, pulsating with fire. But when she stood naked before me, nothing else mattered; I was ready to venerate her anew.

"I could say the same about you Mr. President."

Rudely, I was staring at her lips unable to look away. When she said my name that way and with that seductive smile of hers, I wanted to tear off her clothes and keep her strapped to my bed for days. She knew it too. She had no doubt of her hold on me; the things she could do to bring me to my knees.

"I missed you Fitz…It's different with us, isn't it?" Resting her head on her hand she continued staring at me but seeing more; the past and how it connected to the here and now.

We honestly tried to live apart from each other. Whether it was a sacrifice for the greater good, for morality sake or in search of something more, we both tried and failed. The conclusion was inevitable: There was nothing else, there was nothing better; we both knew that.

"It's better," I corrected. And she agreed with a wide smile.

Last night hadn't been just about lust; well, not after the first time at least. But the first time didn't really count; I wanted her too badly, I couldn't form the words and thankfully did not have to ask if she was ready. Her eagerness matched, even exceeded, my own. It had been too long and patience was no longer possible. So the insanity of crazed desire was excusable; fulfilment of baser needs would eventually lead to sensibility.

It had been a rediscovery of ourselves together; to see if the familiarity remained and if we could ease back into the knowing of each other. Whether we could expose ourselves, give our bodies up to one another, completely; as it was the only way the urge to devour each other would be filled.

There was a momentary disquieting thought that maybe we couldn't reconnect on that level of knowing again; maybe the separation had been too long and fear and trepidation would take over, preventing us from finding that rhythm and releasing all inhibitions.

But we did and after the savagery had been sated, the second time had been slower, more methodical. I hadn't fully realized it then but on reflection, I now understood my motives. Determined to heighten the anticipation of satisfaction, I held her pleasure in my hands; I needed to control her, to possess her, to dominate her; feeling, as I had many times before, that if I could somehow hold on to her, she would never leave.

The idea mercy never entered my mind. She begged but I wasn't deterred. Purposefully and with extreme concentrated effort, I could control my arousal while demanding every expression of hers; working her relentlessly until she rewarded me with breathless, heavy pants, body convulsions and uncontrollable screams; until that moment where she lost herself completely, where her body no longer belonged to her, only to me.

Somewhere in the early morning hours, I instantly woke to a slight brush of her body against mine and the feeling returned, as if the loss of our physical attachment became a threat. And I entered her swiftly, gruffly, pausing only at her gasp of surprise. She had to feel what I felt; know the desperation of longing for someone even in your subconscious, the need to be bound in fantasy and reality.

When she began to move against me, I tried to hold back, not willing to succumb to it or relinquish the reins of power but she took them forcefully from me; reminding me that in all things, intellectually, physically and sexually, we were evenly matched.

She was still reflecting. "You see me Fitz…you know me. You were the first man that didn't look at me and try to figure out how he could change me to fit his life. Everyone wants my strength; for me to lead them, protect them, save them. But you understand who I am; even my shortcomings and weaknesses and you don't use them against me. You love me, despite them….I've never been as honest with anyone, as I am with you."

There was a strand of hair that fell in her face and I reached out to move it behind her ear. "Neither of us are perfect Olivia. But I think we trust each other enough to be real in all things…That's what I was afraid of when you weren't there this morning, lying beside me…that we had lost the truth of us, that we could never be real with each other again. It was like that first morning after…"

The Trail. Her eyes flickered with remembrance; it was hard to forget.

XXX

"_What are you….How did you….Why are you here?" she said in panic as she left the bathroom, wrapped in a towel to find him sitting on her hotel bed, waiting for her to emerge._

_He was immaculately dressed; perfect clothing, perfect hair. He sat there so calm and reserved; the appearance of complete resignation to everything that happened with in the last 24 hours. But she knew better; she saw the ticking in the side of his neck and the slight flush to his earlobes. It was telling; she could always tell when he was suppressing fierce emotions._

"_I told the front desk I lost my key and they gave me a replacement," his voice was flat, only slightly angry. She tightened the towel around her and he raised an eyebrow at her modesty; a foolish gesture considering what they did last night._

_Steam was still rising off her bronzed skin and his fingers itched with remembrance. The heat of her was fueling his blood and the temperature in the room began to rise. God, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. How was he supposed to forget? Go back to what they were before? How could he go on without touching and holding her again? It was impossible._

"_Well you should go…we have a lot to do today, Governor." She was trying to put him back in the box. If she could focus on the position, not the man, then she could probably, in time, forget all the emotions raging inside of her._

"_Why did you leave?"_

_She sighed dramatically feeling the answer was obvious and didn't need to be spoken._

_To her it had been simple. She responded to her sexual needs for a night and then, when daylight brought clarity, they were supposed to go their separate ways. He knew the game as well as she did. It would be foolish to think that there was anything more to them than one casual night of fucking._

_She could feel it, he was going to complicate things and neither of them could afford the risk; she could only see disaster as the endgame._

_She wasn't ready to admit it to herself, but she knew something was different with him. She could still feel the pull of him drawing her in and that, in itself, was a different, unexplainable emotion, she didn't fully understand._

"_Governor…I think we both know why."_

_Fitz thought she looked like a frightened little girl and under the circumstances, he understood it. But he was not that guy; he was not the man who cheated on his wife every chance he got. He was not the man who chased women._

_It wasn't just about sex. He wanted more. He didn't know how it would work or what tomorrow would bring but he would make her feel safe enough to trust him; to believe that he would never take advantage of her and that he truly cared for her._

_He stood from the bed and with his hands in his pockets; staring at her for several long, long minutes. It took all her power to stand there under his penetrating gaze._

_All the time they had spent together during the campaign, the late night talks – learning, understanding and seeing each other in ways that no one else had before, connected them beyond this one night. They could lower their facades with each other; without fear they could speak on a level of honesty that did not require pretense and did not result in judgment. It was rare to find that freeness with another person and he was not going to let it go, not without a fight._

_When he finally spoke, his voice was so deep and commanding that she could only stare back at him, completely caught up in the power of his presence. He was making her lose control._

"_Olivia, this will NOT be one of those one-night stands that we forget ever happened. Even If we never have sex again…I want you. There's something more between us and we both know it. I want it; I want to be with you."_

_With each word he came closer and she was finding it harder to catch a breath._

"_I won't touch you again unless you ask me to. But whatever this relationship will be, I want it. If you want me to prove it to you I will."_

_He realized that on the surface, he may have sounded like any other adulterer. But she knew him better than that. She knew when he lied, when he skirted the truth or deliberately twisted words. She knew when he was being a politician. But she also knew when he was being completely honest. And looking in her eyes now, he could tell that she saw the truth in his words; she believed him._

"_Touch me," she whispered against his lips as the towel dropped._

_They did not leave the hotel room for several more hours._

XXX

How long ago had that been? Six, seven, eight years ago? We had been on this merry-go-round for a long time. But hearing her joyful laughter in my bed right now made whatever happened before almost seem worth it.

"I did not learn that from a porn movie…I swear," my laughter made it harder for her to believe me.

Olivia's current client was a politician who was a former porn actor. It was in the past, but recently, stupidly, on a dare, the politician did a quick scene in a movie under the impression that their identity would be obscured and no one would ever know. Someone found out. As part of handling the case, she watched the recent movie and noted some "interesting" sexual maneuvers. She believed my techniques originated from the same movie or something like it.

"It's ok to admit you watch porn Fitz…many people do."

"Oh really? Do you?"

"No…I mean not for pleasure purposes…Not for a very long time."

"Well I am a man with many talents and I do not need porn to show me how to pleasure your body," I boasted.

She didn't respond but I saw her lips twitch with suppressed laughter. I continued to prove my point, "My ears are still ringing from your screams, so I think I handled it."

"I could say the same; I believe I heard you moaning **_"Fuck, Liv!"_** or my favorite **_"Jesus Christ, Liv!"_** more than once tonight and last night."

"I was faking it," I joked.

She playfully punched me in the chest, "You jerk!"

"Ouch!...So who's your client, have I met him?"

She gave me the look that meant it was none of my business. I knew that of course, she always kept her clients confidential but I couldn't resist asking.

"And why do you automatically assume it's a man? It could be a woman." At my raised eyebrows, she chuckled and continued, "Don't tell me you're a typical man who has trouble believing a highly intelligent, professional woman could have sexual desires that go beyond the norm?"

"Absolutely not…I encourage women to explore their sexuality." The corners of her mouth twitched with hilarity at my underlying meaning. "Well, not all women…I did walk in on Karen and her friends watching some kind of porn website…I wanted to pour bleach in my eyes to erase that image," she was laughing hysterically as I continued, "It wasn't funny. No father wants to even consider his daughter having sex, much less watching it. I couldn't look her in the eye for a week. Eventually, I told her watching that stuff was bad for her health. She didn't believe me though."

"You're a great father, Fitz," she lovingly said as her fingers glided through my hair, "A great man."

Pausing thoughtfully, I concluded, "It's because of you Livvie…I needed to be a better man for you." After a deep kiss that left her breathless, I added, "And…It helps that I have a beautiful amazing woman that lets me try out all my expert moves."

She chuckled. "Oh God, why do men need constant ego boosts?…I never said they were 'expert moves'."

"Are you complaining?"

"Mmmm, I think you should practice more….a whole lot more, before you reach the level of a porn star."

Neither of us had any problems with that.

XXX

It was odd but I had come to genuinely like the man. And I was going to find a way to covertly support his campaign.

"Is your VP going to run?"

"I have no idea…Andrew and I aren't in each other's confidence."

"It's assumed that he has the support of the White House behind him…if he runs. And of course, there are the rumors about him and your ex-wife."

"I know even less about that," I dismissed and moved on, "Does anyone know you're running?"

"Only those in my intimate circle and my wife, of course."

I nodded in agreement at his discretion. His wife re-entered the Oval through the patio doors. She was a beautiful woman and his three-year-old son was the image of his father. Edison would make an ideal President. He was a Democrat but my liberal views often matched his and I believed he could serve the country well. I had no problem crossing the aisle if it meant getting the job done and benefitting the American people.

He knew, of course, that I could not sponsor him publicly. I could not put the weight of the White House behind his candidacy but he appreciated my personal support just the same.

It was interesting how, once Olivia was no longer caught between us, we could deal very well with each other and settle into a comfortable relationship of mutual respect.

We talked a little longer before the door opened and Olivia walked in. I didn't know she was coming today or I would have warned her. But she had an open door invitation to my office and could come anytime as long as there wasn't a private meeting scheduled.

Surprise registered on all their faces. It was clear that Edison's wife, Theresa, knew exactly who Olivia was, as the grip she had on her husband's arm tightened.

Edison cleared his throat and broke the awkward silence. He greeted Olivia with an eager handshake and introduced his wife and his son, Carter. There wasn't any type of animosity or boastfulness in his manner, he spoke matter of factly; he harbored no ill feelings toward Olivia.

Olivia responded but her smile and movements were stiff, unsteady. Theresa regarded Olivia suspiciously and looking between the two women, it was blatantly obvious why Edison and Olivia had been incompatible. Theresa was the model politician's wife – willing to be whatever and whomever was needed to further her husband's career. She was who Edison wanted, a wife that would serve his needs. That could never be Olivia. She had her own identity that she would not allow to be swallowed up in her husband's shadow.

It's one of the reasons I admired her so much – her independence and drive to be who she wanted in a world that would prefer to dismiss her based on gender and race alone; reduce her identity to one of unimportance and ornamental. She made a name for herself that was respected and often feared. She was an amazingly, accomplished, brilliant woman.

It had been ten minutes since Edison and his family left and she still sat there, dazed, staring off at nothing, not saying a word. It didn't take much for me to guess the direction of her thoughts. That could have been her life; she could have been normal, married, with a child and possibly even the next First Lady of the United States. Could she have made herself happy with that life? Did she regret the choices she made?

She had been cordial during their visit but I knew the moment her body became tense, taut like a rubber band; her eyes steeled against Edison's words, _"Olivia, you haven't changed."_ Intentional or not, the implication was clear: She was still the same woman, at the beck and call of the President of the United States, her life hadn't progressed.

Curiosity won over patience. I handed her a glass of water and asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

She accepted the glass; her movements still a bit jerky. "There's nothing to talk about."

"If you're jealous Olivia, you can admit that…I won't judge you."

She became defensive. "I'm not jealous….that's not...I hadn't seen Edison in a long time and I was just surprised. I mean, of course, I heard…I knew about his family but seeing them felt….different."

Sitting across from her, my eyes never left hers as I leaned back and put my feet on the table. "Do wish you had that life?"

It was important to me that she felt no threat of condemnation; she had to feel the comfortable space that would allow her to express herself freely. I wanted to know her thoughts.

She scoffed at the notion. "No, don't be ridiculous…Are YOU still jealous of him?"

She thought that would upset me, put me on the counter-defense, but I smiled. "I've been jealous of Edison since I knew he existed."

She was either surprised that I felt that way or surprised that I could admit it.

I shook my head, a little disconcerted that she didn't know this already. "Olivia…I am a jealous man. I'm jealous of anyone, past or present, that kissed you, held you, made love to you; any man that you even considered making a life with….I've lived with it for a long time and it lessens but that doesn't mean it goes away."

I had practice; admitting my faults came a lot easier these days because I learned to accept them for what they were.

"Why didn't I want that life? It was so easy, so simple…so normal. All the horrible things that would have never happened, if I had just accepted him and moved on," she sounded hopelessly lost.

I didn't take offense. Wanting her honesty, I asked, "Would you have been happy?"

"No," she responded quickly and I released the breath I didn't realize I had been holding. "I tried but I couldn't do it. I loved him in my own way but I was never **_in_** love with him. And all his plans for our future made me feel…trapped."

I hesitated briefly, doubting whether I should ask the question; whether she was ready to give the answer and whether I was ready to hear it. "Are you happy now? Do you regret your choices?"

Accustomed to keeping her feelings under lock and key, she hesitated. She studied me closely watching for signs of rejection in my body language and demeanor. Thankfully, whatever she saw gave her license to continue.

"I regret the pain I've caused people by my choices…I regret that I could not give people what they wanted from me. I once told Edison I wanted an extraordinary, life-changing, difficult, devastating kind of love….Be careful for what you wish for, right?" She ended with a short mocking laugh.

"I tried to walk away, do the right thing…God knows I tried to erase you from my heart, let go of what I feel for you. Find a way to be happy…to not feel so lonely. But you were everywhere; around me, inside of me. I thought if I left you, if I went away, I could forget. I was going to find a way to live without you. But…but you're like gravity….you pull me back in and I can't stay away. It hurt me to love you but it killed me to be without you.

"And I came back and...one look at you and I'm done. You're the only one…the only love that makes me feel…things. I can feel when I'm with you. I'm free….I have a passion for you that scares me sometimes, but I run to it. It's where I feel the safest to be who I am."

"You've sacrificed a lot Olivia, from the beginning…you've given up a lot for this, for me. I'm sor…"

I started to apologize but she interrupted me. It wasn't what she wanted. "It was my choice Fitz because I believed in you and your love for me." She paused for thought and I waited, silently urging her to continue. I knew that her therapy sessions were helping her speak openly and my mind was pleading with her not to hold back.

"It's just that I wanted you for so long and you were never mine to have. I could see you almost every day on TV, hear you speak but I couldn't talk to you; I couldn't touch you. I couldn't call you to tell you about my day; I couldn't take a walk with you, go to lunch with you. I was afraid to let you be my friend because when reality set in; when once again I realized that you were here but not really here, it hurt too bad.

"I shared you with everyone and I only got a tiny piece of you that kept getting smaller and smaller until there was nothing left. It's all the life I know - to settle for nothing. But to be here now, to have you now…I want to be selfish; I'm not sharing anymore. I want everything I never allowed myself to dream of before."

Edison's visit unleashed a flood of emotions. Suddenly she stood, as if the seat was too confining for the tide of her thoughts. The anger was coming now; I could feel it from across the room. She had been holding on to this anger for a long time. I would be her target, I knew that, but it was time to let it all go.

I watched as she paced, in circles.

She groaned loudly, "It was so damn unfair!...Why didn't you do it sooner?! All those years we wasted! All the back and forth…You could have divorced her sooner if you wanted to…you didn't need my approval to do it; you didn't need Cyrus either. You knew how to do it on your own but you chose not to. And I was the one left alone….Without even trying, you kept me tied to you, miserable because I couldn't have you and I could never be satisfied with anyone else.

"I know you tried to let me go. But you're an idiot Fitz because you know damn well that you are the only man I want! And only when I leave...when I'm halfway across the world do you finally find the courage to take your life back! Why couldn't you do that when I was here….waiting for you!"

She knew there were no right answers. As frustrating as our lives had been, we each had to make choices independent of each other and sometimes at the detriment to the love we shared. She knew as well as I did that there were things I had to do for me just as there were things she had to do for her. We understood it but it didn't make the acceptance of it any easier or the consequences of our choices easier to bear.

Ultimately, the question remained, what was the truth of our love?

I had a mental picture of the years that we spent apart unable to talk to each other, to reach out to each other but still yearning for the contact. We hadn't and couldn't belong to each other. We had obligations, responsibilities that continued to tear us apart. And it had been like a fire burning a hole in my chest that I couldn't extinguish; that held me bound to her but trapped by circumstance.

And I realized that even after my divorce from Mellie, that stifling feeling remained. Even with the marital ties broken, I still felt personally confined; still searching, still lost. But she was right; it was with her that I finally felt it: Freedom.

She stopped pacing but her breath was still short due to the impact of writhing emotions. Fiery doe eyes turned to me, waiting for a reaction and expecting defensiveness and anger. I had neither. I wasn't going to justify the pain I caused her. She asked me to stop keeping score of the pain. And she now demanded that I make this right for her; to make the years she spent "waiting" truly worth it for her. I accepted my responsibility.

She needed me to see and I did. It was only after my initial resentment had subsided that I could things through her eyes with clarity and I could go beyond acceptance and forgiveness, now to understanding and forget.

Slowly, I stood from my seat, "Grab your coat."

That confused her. "What?"

Shrugging on my overcoat, I repeated. "Grab your coat…There's enough snow outside on the South Lawn. You still know how to win a snowball fight?"

She had some pent up aggression left that she needed to expend. I was still the target of her anger and I was giving her a way to release it.

Even as she put on her coat, she was shaking her head. I smirked to myself; God I loved this woman and all her complications. "Fitz, it's late."

"You know you want to hit me….So let's do this." I left out the patio door, knowing the temptation to hammer me with snowballs was too tempting to ignore.

We weren't healed. There was still so much more to talk about and work through. But this was a start and more than anything, we were traveling in the same direction at the same time, finally ready to keep the vows we made so long ago "We're In This Together".

XXX

"Liv?...What's wrong?"

As soon as Daniel handed me the private phone, I found a secluded corner in the hallway to speak to her.

I could hear her exhale sharply and smiled imagining the slight pout she sometimes did when I said something that bothered her. "And hello to you too Mister…I don't only call when something's wrong Fitz."

"Uh…Yes you do."

"No I don't."

"Yes, you do."

She huffed with increased impatience. Personally, I found the verbal sparring with her fun, a welcome diversion from my stressful day. "No I do not…I called you last week just to say thank you for the flowers." When I laughed, she spoke up louder, ignoring me, "But there is a problem Fitz. It…it will be handled and there's no need for you to get upset. You need to remain calm."

I sobered quickly, "What? What is it?"

"Karen…she's in my office. She wants to hire OPA. Something….inappropriate about her is going to be released and she wants me to stop it. I think…I think you and Mellie should come down here. She doesn't want to come back to the White House, not yet."

**_(A/N: I had been trying to edit this chapter for two days. I was almost done then the Scandal Promo came out and all my attention was taken. The promo was beautiful. I can't wait and trust me I haven't said that about a Scandal premier in two years. But I think this year will be different. _**

**_Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this. I'm working hard on my updates. Thanks for reading. Have a great week.)_**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

**(This is story is written from Fitz's POV.)**

"_Begin at the beginning and go on till you come to the end; then stop." _

As a child, Alice in Wonderland had been Karen's favorite bedtime story. Often, she refused to go to bed without hearing at least some part of it. Before long, she and I had memorized several lines, finding ways to insert them into everyday conversation. It had become our own private language, our inside humor.

When she had difficulty admitting her mistakes, somehow that one phrase was enough to persuade her to open up and confess. The memory suddenly came to me as a reminder that she and I once shared something unique; a way of speaking to each other that only we understood.

But that was a long time ago and I was no longer looking at the little girl who didn't want to admit to slashing her brother's tires on his bike as retaliation for barring her from entrance into his bedroom. She was a young woman now, with a complexity of problems for which Alice in Wonderland held no answers.

She chose Mellie to confide in. My rational mind told me this wasn't a parental competition, still her choice stung quite a bit.

Karen's apologetic cries reached me as soon as I entered OPA's conference room, "I'm so sorry Dad. I know you said not to but we really didn't think this would happen…We never…"

Immediately, Jonathan stood at attention; his lanky, angular frame, struggling for a brave front. "It's my fault Sir. I should've taken care of Karen. I take full responsibility for this and I know we should've told you but we…."

"It's not his fault!" Karen defended, fiercely. "It's not Dad. Don't blame him!"

In the chaos of murmuring voices and declarations of remorse the story eventually became clear: Someone was blackmailing my 17 year old daughter with photos of her underage drinking and smoking weed at a party with her 22 year old boyfriend. Or, correction, they _had_ been blackmailing her. That is until, Olivia and Mellie teamed up to handle the situation and paid the blackmailer $2 million dollars. Cyrus, too, had done his part, intercepting the Secret Service report of how Karen ditched her security detail and was left unprotected all evening.

And just like that, between the three of them, they tied up all the loose ends, made sure the blackmailer – whomever that may be – was silenced permanently and the problem was solved, with me none the wiser.

For not the first time, I felt the stifling frustration of an oblivious fool who stands in a room where the same three people - Olivia, Mellie and Cyrus – demonstrate their superiority and wisdom by controlling my access to knowledge and setting their own terms for my enlightenment and my ignorance.

"So why am I here?" I asked testily. It made no sense for me to be standing in the middle of OPA discussing a family issue that by all accounts had been resolved.

Apparently, the problem had not been resolved.

Mellie fired more words at me with impatient condescension. The $2 million dollars withdrawn from her personal account was discovered during the vetting process in an audit by the Senate Committee. She was required to attest to the purpose of the withdrawal and true to her nature, she lied, claiming the monies were transferred as a donation to my son's charity foundation and now she needed proof, namely an Affidavit from me supporting her statement.

"Olivia has drafted up the document. Can you just sign, so we can put this all behind us?" Mellie finalized.

My eyes met Olivia's and rested on her as she laid the document on the table with a pen, then resumed her position standing next to Jake. Had he always been standing there – that smug look of entitlement and superiority on his face? So he was working at OPA. _'That figures,'_ I thought; where else would he go? There was no other place where he could accomplish his purpose of sticking close to Olivia while simultaneously taunting me. And he was still winning at that game.

Mellie and Cyrus' deceptive natures never surprised me. Their personalities often mirrored each other; cunning minds operating on the same wave length. But Olivia. Why did her actions, her allegiances and decisions, continue to leave me baffled? After all these years, had it just been a blind assumption on my part – that I knew her, what she would and would not do? The groundwork for trust between us seemed to crack under the slightest pressure, repeatedly.

Our silent communication was enough to create the most awkward tension in the room that neither of us paid particular attention to.

"_Why didn't you come to me….tell me what was going on," my eyes said. _

"_You know I couldn't…but I took care of it. I fixed it…," her eyes widened with her stern, silent reply._

"You could have just forged my signature," I finally said aloud in a cold, detached voice, as I stared down at the document.

"I wanted to," Mellie boasted. She groaned in deep agitation at my reaction. "I knew you would make a huge deal out of this. I knew you would get your feelings hurt if we brought you in. I didn't want to tell you at all. We could've handled all of this without you. We didn't need you. I should've just forged your signature."

"Mom stop!….Please," Karen interrupted. Then turning back to me, she continued, "Dad, I wouldn't let her. That's why I came to Olivia for help…I'm so sorry."

"Whatever," Mellie dismissed, harshly. She had no patience for human emotions. "Just sign the damn form Fitz!"

As ridiculous as it sounded, my only thought was to escape back to my prison. Not bothering to read the document, I hastily scribbled my signature and turned to leave. I had done what I was told and there was nothing left to say. "Let's go Cyrus, I need to get back."

XXX

"Rumor has it; the President is in a foul mood. I've been warned to give you your space." She smiled widely at her teasing remark but it dropped immediately as my expression hardened.

"Did you talk to her?" my tone unapologetically sharp.

Michelle nodded once and sighed, "I did." She sat and I remained standing, looming over her in a way that demanded more than the answer she gave.

"Mr. President, I don't know what you want from me…"

"I want my daughter fixed."

"Your daughter isn't broken."

I continued staring down at her; the answer did nothing to ease my mind.

"There is nothing wrong with Karen. Sure, she had a rough time dealing with her brother's death but who wouldn't? She needed an outlet, someone to talk too openly without judgment and I am happy to give that to her…But, therapy doesn't take the place of parenting. She is still just a teenager who sometimes does reckless things. That doesn't make her broken or damaged; that makes her normal. You need to talk to her."

"She's not just any teenager, she's my daughter. Certain freedoms are not hers to have. The wrong decision could cost her life. I thought she understood that."

"She does understand that. She gets it. Just remember, becoming a White House kid doesn't simply wash away all her desires to be a normal teenage girl. She wants to be normal, even though she knows she's far from it….She regrets what happened…you know she does…especially because it could cost Jonathan his job."

Annoyed, I sighed deeply and dropped down into the seat beside her, "Every 15 minutes someone is asking me if I'm going to fire Jonathan." I already spent 30 minutes alternating between yelling and lecturing Jonathan on his irresponsibility and his lack of appreciation of the trust I've given him. Duly chastised, he apologized again, repeated how much he cared for Karen and retreated to some corner of the White House, clear out of my sight.

"Well he's a nice young man and Karen deeply cares for him," she surmised. Scrutinizing my body language, she inquired, "There's something else, what is it?"

"Her 18th Birthday Party and the trip with her friends….I feel like I'm just rewarding her bad behavior. She should be punished for what she's done."

"Well…it depends. What's the purpose of the punishment, for you to feel better or to help her understand the gravity of her mistake? Because I kind of think she understands what one thoughtless action can cost her, this family and Jonathan, don't you?"

I hesitated to admit how right she was.

At that moment I felt the acute loss of not having a partner to talk to about every day personal decisions and challenges. Mellie and I rarely got along, but every now and then, we could have sensible conversations especially about the children. Being a single parent was difficult and I missed having someone to discuss life with.

It was nice having Michelle as a friend; someone without a political agenda or purpose. Someone who personally cared, who I could trust and who didn't use my position against me. Someone who didn't try to handle or fix me. Someone who saw me, the man.

"Karen said Mrs. Grant and Olivia Pope handled everything…do you…do you want to talk about that?"

"There's nothing to talk about." It was a flippantly cool response and Michelle didn't deserve it but my emotions were still unsettled; not yet ready to be dissected.

"It's probably none of my business but Ms. Pope…is she….are you two…?"

"Honestly…I have no idea what we are."

"I uh…I was curious and I researched her." She was hesitant with her admission and her breath caught as she waited for my reaction.

My eyebrows lifted in surprise and confusion. "Why?"

"Because I care…I care about you and your family."

I didn't ask what impelled her to investigate Olivia as if she posed some type of threat. I didn't even want to know the results of her research, her conclusions or her opinions. My personal decisions would be my own without the undue influence of anyone else –well intentioned or not.

"I didn't know you…You've loved her for a long time."

It wasn't a question. Although, I never specifically told her how I felt about Olivia, she knew. She saw something and it was enough to answer the unasked question.

"I have. How did you…."

She shook her head, declining to answer. Boldly, she continued studying me, looking for signs of uncertainty and doubt. Surprisingly, I felt no awkwardness at her analysis. The trust had developed into an emotional bonding that was comfortable and easy despite the subject matter.

Standing, she waited for me to look up at her. There was a slight smile on her face. A secret smile like she knew something I had not yet come to understand. Her departing words were resolute. "We are both too old for games Fitz. If you realize that whatever you have with Olivia isn't quite what you want, don't settle for what's familiar. You have options."

XXX

Adjusting my cufflinks, I stepped out the closet and was startled to find her standing there. She was absolutely gorgeous in her black and white dress; a perfect complement to her shapely, sexually enticing form. The flawlessly, impeccable appearance nearly elevating her in divinity.

It never failed; that pull, drawing me into her. Whenever she was anywhere in my vicinity, the inescapable compulsion to be closer constantly threatened to override my sensibilities and diminish my power of reason.

Under the excuse of a hectic schedule, I kept her at arms-length for the past few days; distancing myself for the sake of clarity. Why did it seem like the closer we became, the more I questioned everything and anything? Days of solitude had sufficiently calmed my frustrations, while allowing me to think critically, honestly and realistically.

And I thought I knew the correct course of action but seeing her now, in the flesh, the stunning beauty, it all felt like an exercise in futility. Was I crazy? Why couldn't I just be happy with whatever she was willing to give? She chose me; shouldn't I be content with that honor?

"Do you already have a date for tonight?" She asked casually, a teasing icebreaker. I expected to see her downstairs at Karen's 18th birthday party but I did not anticipate her coming to the residence.

"No…I'm going alone. Sometimes it's better to be alone."

She gave me a hooded glare but didn't take the bait.

"Are we going to fight?" she challenged, as she took a seat on the lounge sofa.

"Fight?...Is that what you call communicate?"

She smirked and shook her head reprovingly. "You really are in a mood tonight, aren't you?...Have you talked to Karen?"

I continued buttoning up my shirt. "I talked to Karen; I talked to Cyrus; I talked to Jonathan…Hell, I even talked to Mellie, though I didn't want to. But you?….Talk?…Can't say we've done much of that."

My snarky comment went unchallenged.

Pulling my tie from the closet, I rejoined her in the bedroom.

Frowning at my selection, she easily corrected, "Not that tie, the red print is more festive."

Unquestioningly, I took her advice and retrieved the correct tie. She spoke up louder so I could hear her from the walk-in closet, "Well I'm here now…so let's talk."

From the reflection in the mirror, I could see her defenses rising; her body bracing for the argument. I schooled my face to remain bland but the passion was bubbling beneath the surface as it always did. She and I could go from zero to a hundred in seconds.

"Whatever we think this is or going to be…I don't think we're on the same page. And it's better we find out now before this goes too far and we realize, too late, that we've been going in two different directions."

Her head tilted and she regarded at me suspiciously. "Is this because of Karen? I did my job Fitz. It's what I do."

"And instead of letting me know…you did what you've always done; work with Mellie and Cyrus behind my back."

If anything, their actions were consistent – scheming and devising behind my back for as long as they could until eventually, they needed my help to clean up the mess made. And my role was always the same: never question, simply follow instructions and thank them for serving at the pleasure of the President.

She folded her arms defensively. "So now I have to clear my work through you…get your permission?!"

"You know damn well that is not what I'm saying…This is Karen, Olivia, and she's not your client; a 17 year old child can't sign a client contract. Your client was Mellie."

She stared, obviously not seeing the problem. "I can't believe we're fighting over this!" she said in irritation and disbelief. "You're taking all your anger out on me and that's not fair! I wish for once, you could try to understand my side. **YOUR** family put me in an impossible position. **YOUR** ex-wife and daughter came to me with a problem and I helped them. Did you expect me to refuse the case unless they got your permission? Or require that they bring you in to the discussion? Don't blame me because **YOUR** house is not in order." She scoffed at my foolishness. "Way to keep our professional and personal lives separate."

"And you don't see any problem at all with me not knowing that Karen's life was at risk without her security detail; that she didn't come to me with the problem but chose Mellie?!"

Her scowl deepened, "And how is any of that **MY** problem?! How does what Karen did or what Mellie did justify this attitude you're giving me?...You should be thanking me for cleaning up **YOUR** family's messes as I've always done. Instead you're going off on me and I have no fucking clue what you're so pissed off about!"

"I'm pissed because when it comes to Mellie and Cyrus it's always the same shit…we are always on opposite sides of the problem, with you standing with them and me left in the dark!...And it's not just professionally, this was personal Olivia."

"I didn't make it personal. This was a job for me and I did it. You're making it personal because it involved **YOUR** family and that is not my problem."

"**YOU** are my family!" I yelled, completely exasperated with her failure to get my point. Pausing to breathe deeply and calm my rising temper, I continued, "There is no separation between my children and you Olivia. You are **ALL** my family."

As if she were an open book, I could see the internal struggle; how to process the words, what they meant and how it affected her life. The responsibility of co-parenting, with a united front, had obviously not occurred to her. Fear and trepidation began to take over and I knew she was becoming overwhelmed with her own thoughts and speculations.

With resignation that stemmed more from weariness than acceptance, I gave her an out. "I don't think you're ready for a committed relationship."

I didn't dare question her about the discovery of Jake working for OPA knowing that would be like igniting a fire storm of fierce emotions rooted in the same argument – her being secretive under the guise of asserted independence and me being controlling, obsessing over every aspect of her life. If we started that conversation, we likely would not leave this room until we tore each other to pieces, literally and figuratively.

Offended by the weak assessment of her character, she exhaled sharply; the trance of vulnerability vanished. "Oh and who told you that, your therapist **FRIEND**?!...Have you both been sitting around discussing my character flaws?!"

Dismissing her accusations, I shook my head and asked instead, "What do you want Liv?...What do you want from this relationship?...Because I know what I want. I can see it clearly. But I'm not going to assume that you want that too….So what do you want?"

A few times she opened her mouth to say something but no words came. Watching the cascade of emotions across her face, it finally occurred to me that her hesitation was less because of uncertainty and more because she knew the words would hurt me. She was afraid to say them; afraid of their effect on me, on us.

Taking a seat at the opposite end of the sofa, my appeal became desperate. "What do you want? I need you to tell me Olivia…I can't read your mind. I can't guess and we will never go anywhere if we don't understand what each other wants."

Her unblinking stare intensified with her inward deliberations. "I don't want to get married," she finally said. And then, "I don't want children." Her voice was slightly apologetic but still bespoke the authority of uncompromising decision. "I know you've always wanted that – marriage, two babies. But I don't want it. I love you and I want you but I don't want….that. Are you okay with my choice?"

The unexpected admission hung heavy in the air; solid and thick, not dissipating. Like a vice gripping my insides, my stomach clenched with the anxiety of an uncertain future. Overcome by an invisible paralytic force, I couldn't speak, challenge or react.

I continued staring but no longer really seeing her; seeing past her to the visions of my last day in office, leaving this place, stepping out into the sun, feeling the grace of freedom and immediately driving to our church wedding to be joined completely to the love of my life.

Even when she left and I didn't know if she was coming back, even after I sold the Vermont home, I held the improbable dream somewhere safe inside, like a tiny flame in a small part of me that flickered but never extinguished. In unexpected moments, my daydreams made it seem so tangible and so possible.

But she didn't feel the same. It was a blow to my ego, my esteem and my heart. Gradually thawing from the numbness of shock, my head jerked in a single nod; it wasn't an agreement but a gesture of acknowledgement that my hearing was intact.

"_All his plans for our future made me feel…trapped"_ – she said about Edison and the future he offered. Was the prospect of a shared life with me just as confining; a suffocating existence of entrapment – like a beautiful butterfly whose wings had been painfully ripped from its body and stripped of the ability to soar?

Faced with the startling disclosure of her true feelings, could I let the dream go? As long as I had her, did all the rest even matter?

XXX

The next day I left for Camp David.

Karen's Birthday Party went amazingly well, with little to no complications. Most importantly, she was thrilled and enjoyed herself immensely. She left for a weekend trip in Miami Beach with friends and two chaperones of my choosing in addition to her full security detail.

Teddy and I spent a few days in Camp David; tomorrow we would leave on our vacation to the West Coast – alone. By mutual agreement, Olivia and I decided that it wasn't a good idea for her to accompany us. We tempered any further discussions about our relationship in favor of undivided attention on Karen's event. We danced together, socialized and had a great time, unencumbered by burdening thoughts of the direction of our relationship. The night ended with a shared concession that we were moving too fast; there was no rush and time would not change how we felt about each other.

However, I refused to lie to myself and could not ignore the nagging thought that there would never be a perfect time to come into the light of day and date in the open. Our lives were high-profile and our personal decisions would invite public attention, whether I was in office or not. It was a delay of the inevitable and I could've challenged that it was better to address it now; overcome the hurdle of media exposure of the First Girlfriend. Get past it so that we could move on.

But, by a large degree, her sacrifice was greater and required that I concede to her wishes.

The trip to Camp David was unscheduled and nearly sent Cyrus into an epileptic seizure but I was insistent. The work I needed to review could be accomplished remotely, and now that Teddy had been put to bed, I attempted to do just that but soon grew restless. A midnight stroll in the fresh cool air would do me good.

A light knock at the door revealed a welcome visitor that made a walk under the stars even more inviting.

"Hi."

"Hi."

XXX

"You were trying to make me jealous."

Against the backdrop of a deep dark night, she cast the perfect contrast with her white winter coat, white knit cap, scarf and gloves. Light from the twinkling stars and a full bright moon were just enough to give her a simple, soft, beautiful glow.

In the silence, I treasured our isolation. Far away from the steady flow of political agendas in DC, we were just Fitz and Olivia, not the Politician and the Fixer. We could walk together, talk and laugh – our own version of normal.

Her statement held no anger, in fact, I detected a little mockery and tightened my grip on her hand.

"You once told me you were above all the petty games…I'm guessing that's not true anymore?"

My head hung a little lower, slightly abashed by the memory. She was right. I had been petty and disrespectful; determined to make her regret stalling our relationship. The movie actress had come to the White House twice before for state events. She openly flirted several times in the past and I dismissed it as friendly banter. At Karen's party though, I indulged her attentions and charmed her unnecessarily. The play-by-play sufficiently soothed my ego and allowed me to gain a measure of control.

Olivia witnessed much of our interactions and finally shot me a threatening look, censuring my antics.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I don't know why I…." I began regretfully.

"You think I take you for granted; that I assume you will always be here when I'm ready," she interrupted and paused before admitting, "And maybe I do. I know you want to go public. But we can't, not yet. We need to do this right. We need to be stronger because once we let the world in; they will press us until we break. They will twist our love into something ugly and cheap. We need to prepare ourselves, our family and our friends for that kind of attack because once it hits there is no stopping it."

Recognizing the park bench at the far end of the path, underneath the tall lamppost and wide trunk Sycamore tree, I guided her over to the spot. Pointing to the base of the tree, she looked up at me in confusion until the memory returned and she smiled, giggling as she bent down searching for the letters I carved in wood so many years ago. They faded slightly, were not at all visible to unknowing eyes, but we could still see them – a jagged heart shape with F + O in the middle.

"I kept my promise to you," I said.

XXX

"_This is not the way to my cabin, Mr. President….I think you're drunk," she was going for a reproving correction but her own inebriated state made her words slur and she giggled from the sound. She swayed into him and he caught her. The kiss on the top her of head now came by instinct; the habit of touching her had to be repressed in the sight of others. _

_But now they were alone, in the dark, he could touch her and kiss her as they both wished. The dozens of Secret Service Agents footsteps away were invisible. _

"_Wait, I thought we were going to my cabin, Ms. Communications Director," he teased. He was a little drunk, but only a little. He still had full control of himself, though he had no idea where they were going and didn't care, as long as he was with her, it was all that mattered. The hours and days they spent trying to pretend they were nothing but friends, co-workers, were draining and times like these felt like freedom. _

_They nearly stumbled and fell, finally crashing onto the park bench. Their laughter echoed through the trees and floated back to their ears like a joyous melody. The impulse toward reckless abandon came without conscious decision; as soon as the moment of isolation presented itself, they took advantage of every second to be the true selves they reserved only for each other._

_Olivia sighed and snuggled closer into his chest, feeling the vibrations of resonating happiness tickle against her cheek. Her own smile widened; she loved watching him like this, when the pressure of who he was and who he needed to be didn't weigh him down into insecurity and sadness. She could see the tension ebbing away from him at the party. She watched him dance and drink with friends, his body relaxing as he disconnected from the life he temporarily left back at the White House with his wife, Mellie. And when the party was over, she would have him all to herself. _

_There were days where she deliberately isolated herself; testing her resilience, the will to remain apart from him; to resist the magnetic pull of his existence. But he was like a hurricane – powerful, ravaging and she was standing in the middle of the storm - helpless, yielding and swept up over and over again. _

"_I wish you had let me lose," he suddenly said._

_She tensed at his words and abruptly sat up to look him in the face. Her breath caught and she held it as panic gripped; a disturbing fear of the implication of his words rapidly channeled through her. His face remained impassible. Was it an off-hand remark or did he really mean it? Did he know what they had done to secure his place in history, as President of the United States? How she committed a heinous crime for his happiness alone? _

"_What?" she croaked. _

_Her anxiety was unmistakable and seeing it, he immediately sought to ease her worry. Caressing her cheek, he explained, "If I had lost, I would have divorced my wife and married you as soon as you would let me."_

_Olivia visibly relaxed, nearly collapsing in relief. She resumed her position, more so to hide the emotions on her face, which she was sure betrayed the guilt she felt. "You are where you need to be Fitz…And I'm here, right beside you."_

"_Doesn't it bother you?"_

_Of course it bothered her. She didn't like going home to her apartment alone, sleeping alone, waking up alone, knowing that her heart belonged to the man who couldn't share a real life with her. She didn't tell him that some nights her mind persecuted her so relentlessly for falling in love with a married man that she barely slept. She never told him how often she cried for a future they would never have. She never told him that she loved him. _

"_It's fine Fitz," she breathed. "Let's just be who we are in the moment and enjoy what we have." Her voice shook with emotion that she prayed he would ignore. She found herself constantly trying to stray away from the serious conversations she knew he wanted to have. In honesty, she was afraid. Afraid of who he was to her and who she was to him; afraid that if it became too much, too deep, he would try to give it all up for her; afraid that she would never measure up to his sacrifice._

_Him being married was safe. It didn't force them to analyze whatever they had too closely because there was nothing they could do to change it anyway._

_With one swift move, he suddenly lifted her into his lap, bringing her face to his and kissed her hard. The taste of him was heavenly and she yearned for more. She clung to him as she always did, as if it were the first and the last time. As if the stolen moment might not ever occur again. _

_When they finally broke apart, his eyes immediately went to her swollen lips. He loved the look of her; flushed with desire. He loved that she so willingly gave her all to him. He knew she loved him, even if she never spoke the words. He told himself he didn't need it; he didn't have a right to hear it, not until he could offer something in return. _

_Under the dim shadow of lamplight, he searched her face, "I promise you one day…one day we'll be here, in this spot and I'll be free. Able to love you like you deserve Livvie, able to give my all to you."_

_They fell asleep on that park bench and when she awoke he showed her the carving in the tree; proof of the vow he made._

XXX

"I have loved you for so long Livvie, I can barely remember a time when I didn't love you. You said were ready…to give your all to us. But I don't think you understood what that meant to someone like me… I've wanted this for too long. I won't be placed in a box. I can't be some small subsection of your life, placed in a neat compartment, that you only pull out and play with when you feel the need…THAT is not a real relationship, at least not one I'm willing to have. I want all of you."

For years, I had no right to demand anything. I wasn't free to love her; we had no real relationship. There are few words of commitment in an affair; no promises, no vows, no demands. Transitioning from what we were to what we could now be was risky and unpredictable; there was no controlled environment to experiment and test theories. Everything was real-time - trial and error, win or lose, fall and rise.

"You're afraid to lose yourself in this…in us; afraid it will suffocate you and change you for the worse. I don't want to take away your identity, Livvie; I only want to love you. Love makes us better people; we may lose a little bit of who we once were but we can find a better version of the person we want to be."

Our relationship was a living, breathing entity. We could make of it what we wanted. We could give it life, mold it, nourish it, watch it flourish and become a thing of beauty. Or we could suffocate it, starve it, ignore it and watch it die a slow painful, torturous death.

Her arms came around my waist pulling me close; the feeling of contentment so strong that I wondered how it was that our relationship was still so fragile. She didn't agree, consent or contradict my words, instead implored patience, "I know how rare it is to find a love like ours…That it has survived this long is unexplainable. It's worth it Fitz."

She may have been speaking aloud to convince herself, nevertheless I believed. It was worth every endeavor, every effort. It's what everyone wants – to have someone know everything, the darkest parts of us, and fearlessly choose to stay, to still find us worthy of their love.

She pulled back and looked up at me; rounded doe eyes beaming with hope and promise. Pulling my head down to meet hers in bold invitation she whispered, "I'm cold….warm me."

And I did.

It had nothing to do with the chill of the night air or the dampening mist. It was the coldness of soul, stark sterility, a disconnection from the love that fills hollow spaces; love that radiates warmth from within, setting a fire that blazes bone-deep.

XXX

"Sir….Sir we need you to come with us now, please. You and Ms. Pope must come with us now," Secret Service Agent Daniel Rawlings urgently pushed us along until we were practically running back to the Aspen Presidential Cabin.

As soon as we came inside, another agent ran up the stairs to get Teddy and Marta.

"Tell me what's going on!"

"Sir, there's been a breach at the White House. An intruder came over the gates and almost made it into the mansion. He was apprehended but there is….an additional threat."

At least eight agents crowded around us inside the cabin, only a fraction of what was present, on alert, outside.

Abruptly snatched from a deep sleep and sensing the anxiety from everyone around him, Teddy alternated between crying and whining in the arms of the agent bringing him downstairs. Marta would be down as soon as Teddy's bag has been packed.

"Come here baby boy," Olivia cooed as she took Teddy from the agents' arms and held him close to soothe him. Gently she patted his back and rocked him until he calmed.

Daniel rushed to explain further, "Terrorist threat against the White House and two F-13 aircrafts have been sent up due to unidentifiable planes invading the air space of Camp David. We don't know if the events are related but until all is clear, we need to get you to the bunker."

In a matter of minutes, we were all inside the elevator, traveling 200 feet below the cabin to a secure location.

_**(A/N: Thank you for reading. I know it has been quite a while since I've updated any of my stories. I will not abandon them; I continue to work on them every chance I get. And I appreciate any of you who indulge me by taking the time to read. I hope you enjoyed it. Have a great weekend.)**_


End file.
